Extreme Streets Tennis
by mel92
Summary: Not much is known about Echizen Ryoma’s past before Seigaku, but what if there were more, something deeper and more dangerous, more thrilling… Like a secret past that comes back to bite him and everyone he knows in Japan? How then would the story unfold…?
1. Dare to Play

Extreme Streets Tennis

**Hello! **

**So this story has been knocking around in my brain for several days now, and no matter what I do, every time I close my eyes – the idea comes back. So I figured the only way I can escape is to write the damn story… even if along the way**_**… I create a few monsters…**_** :D**

**I don't speak Japanese, nor have I ever learnt it – so I'll try my best, but bare with me if I mess up the honorific's, or use one or two words in the wrong context. **

**This story is a little… different, it's Ryoma centric, and focuses a lot on the notion of Super-rookie(s) and Ryoma's past – it's a little deeper look into how things could have been – and why they were… **

**Hmm, that sounds a little weird… **

**But it goes through his time at Seigaku too, through all the tournaments – and the Nationals – and then into something… else. There are a few unavoidable OCs, but don't worry as they won't take up the majority of the story. Most cannon characters are involved, but you'll find that I have changed a couple of backgrounds a little, resulting in twists throughout the normal plotline. It starts with a little background history for Ryoma, by about chapter 3 though, he'll be starting Seigaku. **

**Anyway, here is a summary:**

If you think about it…

Not much is known about Echizen Ryoma's past before he came to Seigaku, apart from what was public knowledge, such as winning four consecutive American Junior Tennis tournaments and hence becoming known as a tensai, or prodigy child; 'The Prince of Tennis'. But what if there were something more then just his father teaching him tennis his whole childhood? Something deeper, and more dangerous, more thrilling… Didn't he have friends in America? Why _does_ he sleep so much during the day? Eat so much for a small body? Why _is_ his personality so reclusive? What if it wasn't Nanjiro that he needed to beat so badly? What if Ryoma had a secret past that went much further then even _he_ could imagine, and if it came back to bite him, and everyone he knows in Japan? How, then, would the story unfold…?

**I don't own P.o.T. or anything else you recognise. This is fanfiction, and no copyright is intended. Language warning! This story is rated 'M', there are a lot of themes in this story, if they offend you… I'll set Fuji on you. With a glass of Inui juice… **

**And… SPOILERS WARNING! If you haven't seen or read the OVAs then you probably won't understand some of this. **

**Also I reserve the right of creativity! Which means that while a few things in this story might seem a little… impossible at times… imagination makes it possible. :D**

**EST**

_Ryoma remembered when it began. He remembered all too well just how everything began. _

It was the last day of school, a week or so before Ryoma's tenth birthday in America. His birthday was on the 24th of December, so a layer of snow covered the ground, and the air held a frosty chill, warning the people of New York to wrap up tight. Ryoma, who hated the cold, was plodding home from school in a grey hoodie jumper – the school he went to didn't require a uniform. His signature hat blocked the glare from the white snow, and his tennis racket bag was slung over his shoulder.

Currently his thoughts were on the nice hot bath at home, and on Karupin his beloved cat, waiting to cuddle at home, when –

"Hey! Echizen!" a loud voice yelled from behind him.

Started out of his thoughts, Ryoma turned around to be met with a boy about his age and size, with blonde hair and piecing blue eyes that seemed to burn with resentment. A tennis bag like his own was hefted on the boy's arm.

Ryoma blinked. "…Do I know you?" he asked, when the boy just continued to glare at him.

Somehow the boy seemed to take this as an insult, and he narrowed his eyes at Ryoma, lips lifting in a sneer. Ryoma was inwardly bewildered – he really had no idea who this baka joker was.

"You will soon, Ryoma Echizen! I'll make sure you never forget my name!"

Ryoma regarded him – unimpressed.

"Che," he said turning away again, if the boy didn't want to speak sense then he wasn't going to stick around and listen.

"HEY! Don't you walk away from me! I'm Kevin Smith, and I'm challenging you!"

That stopped him. _A challenge? Why, sure._ It might be fun to play someone else, other then his baka oyaji.

"Okay," the nine-year-old agreed simply, half turning to smirk at the mysterious Kevin Smith who looked like he held a personal grudge against him for some reason.

The two boys walked in silence to a nearby street tennis court, took out their rackets and stood on the opposite sides of the net.

"Which?" Ryoma asked.

"Rough!"

"Heh," _was this guy for real?_ "Smooth."

Kevin's mouth twisted sourly and he went to stand in his receiving position. Ryoma walked confidently to the base line, taking out a ball.

_Bounce, bounce_. "Hey, when I win, tell me what this is about, won't you?" Ryoma said.

"Just serve already!" Kevin snapped.

_Bounce._ "Mada Mada Dane." _Bounce, bounce_.

Ryoma threw the ball up with practiced form, easily catching it with his racket, and sending it zooming into the other half. The game had begun.

Kevin smacked it back with pent up aggression, and Ryoma was surprised by the force behind it. Neither willing to let up, they rallied back and forth, getting faster and stronger with each hit, keeping pace with the other. Soon though, Kevin slipped on a slightly icy patch, giving Ryoma the first point.

The game continued – swallowing up the minutes as the boys lost themselves in the flow. They discarded their warmer outer-garments despite the cold air, as the exertion quickly had them dripping in sweat. Kevin was actually pretty good, and as the score was levelled at three games all, Ryoma found to his surprise that he was enjoying himself. Usually he only had his father to play against, and he always lost as his father's skill was off the charts. This Kevin kid was practically a made rival for Ryoma, he had never played a game like this before, and somehow that made him want to win all the more.

Little did the boys know, they weren't alone, someone was watching their game from the shadows.

After another half and hour, Ryoma finally pulled a victory at seven games to five, and they both fell panting onto the cold bitumen court.

"Wow," Kevin murmured, Ryoma's good ears catching the breathy words. "Father, was your opponent like this?"

Ryoma frowned for a moment, confused at the comment, but then he dismissed it. "Look," Ryoma said, climbing up on his knees so he could peer over the net at the boy. "Kevin, I don't know what your quarrel is with me, but that was the most brilliant game of tennis I've ever played," he stated. It wasn't often that Ryoma gave out compliments, mostly because of the lack of people worthy of them.

"Me too." Kevin smiled up at him, and then clamoured up on his own knees to face Ryoma, he suddenly looked sheepish. "Err… I'm sorry about being so rude and challenging you like that, I guess… I see now… my problem isn't really with you, so – err – yeah… I'm sorry,"

"Don't mind," Ryoma smirked at the boy's uncertainty, he offered his hand over the net, and Kevin gladly grasped it. Ryoma felt a strange euphoria erupt inside him as they smiled at each other. _Was this what it was like to have a friend? _

"Oi, you kids," a new, older, voice called from off to their left. The two boys spun around, quickly springing to their feet in the shock of being snuck up on in spite of being exhausted. The newcomer was a handsome boy of about fifteen years of age; he had black hair that fell around his face, pulled into a tie at the nape of his neck, and calculating hazel eyes in a weirdly otherwise, emotionless face. He looked very fit, as his stance oozed lithe muscle underneath his black sweater, and he easily towered over both of them. A lit cigarette was held daintily between two fingers, but as he stepped forward out of the shadows of a building, he dropped it and crushed it beneath his black boots.

Ryoma's instincts swiftly become alert, the hairs on the back of his neck rising as something about the very nature of this young man screamed 'danger'.

This did not escape the newcomer's notice, and a slow smile spread across the guy's face.

"Huh, no need to get your tails in a knot, I just want to talk," his voice was low and silky; reassuring them. "My name is Felix Summers. I was passing by, and couldn't help noticing your exhilarating game."

"Do you play?" Kevin asked curiously, Ryoma shot the blonde boy a look, his attitude now seemed a lot friendlier.

Felix gave a soft laugh, sort of warm… and soothing – however Ryoma saw that it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Tennis? No, I don't play tennis. I play something like it, but with a more… thrilling edge, shall we say. However, I do at the moment; have a sort of club going on; an elite club for individuals, such as yourselves, who show great potential and promise in being… prodigies, or geniuses in tennis. It's a training association, you meet and challenge a lot of different people, and if we have a team, we enter in competitions and tournaments and such. We'll meet in a few days time, and I would greatly appreciate it if you two would join us. What I'm trying to say is that I'm offering you both a chance to become all that you can be. To evolve yourselves into players unlike ones ever seen before. 'Super-rookies' some would say. Of course, you're under no obligation to come; I'm merely extending the hand of welcome."

Silence met Felix's speech. Honestly Ryoma wasn't sure what to think, part of him wanted to flatly refuse right then, and yet something in Felix enticed you to listen… A glance at Kevin revealed his newfound friend to be in the same struggle, but the Smith boy, it seemed, was a little more trusting.

"Ah, okay, we'll think about it," Kevin said.

Felix smiled, and Ryoma was bizarrely reminded of the Cheshire cat from _Alice in Wonderland _– a movie his cousin had once forced him to watch as a younger child.

"Perfect. That is all I ask, here take these cards, they'll give you instructions on how to get there. We start on Sunday at 3:00pm, don't be late."

The fifteen year old rapidly flipped two cards out of his sleeves, so they appeared to magically materialize in his hands; he flicked them towards the boys with surprising skill – and they spun through the air and flickered in front of them for a second – allowing the two boys to snatch them up.

Ryoma looked down at it. It was silver with the initials E.S.T. in neat, bold letters on one side and an address on the other. There was no phone number, only a quote beneath it;

– _dare to play_ –

Ryoma frowned, _what was that supposed to mean?_ He looked back up at Felix, mouth opening to ask a question, but it died on his lips.

Felix was, of course, gone.

This was shocking for Ryoma in its own way, as he prided himself on having exceptionally good senses, especially hearing. To not even hear the older boy moving away… it was eerily unsettling.

"Dare to play…" Kevin tested the saying out. "Sounds cool, don't you think?"

"…Hai,"

"What?"

"Oh, sorry, I mean yes," he'd unconsciously slipped back into Japanese.

**EST**

Ryoma had to wonder… if he'd known then what that card would bring, if he had known just how completely his whole life would change… would he still have taken it?

…_Probably. I am stubborn like that._

**EST**

Ryoma closed the front door behind him, automatically slipping off his shoes, his thoughts still back on the tennis court and on the silver card sitting ominously in his pocket. Karupin came trotting along, meowing to be picked up, and Ryoma instinctively obeyed. Hugging the Himalayan kitten to his chest, he moved through the house, wanting nothing more then to collapse on his bed.

"Nani? Heeeh, what's this! The brat finally returns!"

_Kuso_

Ryoma swore at the sound of his father's voice, damn, why couldn't the old man just leave him alone, just this once? But it was not to be, as Nanjiro Echizen came sauntering in before him, staring down at him with a predator-like look. Ryoma glared back from under his hat, turning his head so he could fix his father with one golden eye.

"What happened? Did you get lost? Or perhaps–" Nanjiro's expression turned sly, "– a girlfriend? Hmm… Iie, too young for that…"

"Baka oyaji," Ryoma said, moving to try and get around the annoying man who was blocking the way to his bedroom.

"Pah! Well whatever you were doing, don't think it means you won't get a tennis match. We can easily turn the lights around the court on, so hurry up and get warmed up."

"Yadda," Ryoma snubbed him, finally slipping past and into his bedroom. It took several seconds for Nanjiro to react.

"_NANI?!_ What do you mean 'no'? Don't you want to play a game?"

"Yadda."

Ryoma closed the door in his father's face, slinging his bag and rackets into the corner of his room, and then carefully sprawling on the bed so as not to squash Karupin.

"Matte," the door opened and Nanjiro pranced over to start feeling Ryoma's forehead, "Are you sick? Injured?" He picked up one of Ryoma's arms to examine his son's body in a way that – he probably thought – looked like he knew what he was doing. Ryoma snatched his hand back irritably, just because this was the first time he'd declined a tennis match, _doesn't mean the old man has to act this weird! _

"Iie. Tired. Go away." He rolled over and pulled a pillow up over his head.

"Che," his father snorted, and the next thing Ryoma knew, his world turned upside down as Nanjiro effortlessly picked him up and carried him out the room, fireman style.

Ryoma struggled. "Ittai! Baka oyaji, stop it! Put me down!"

"Uhe, uhe. Uhe, uhe," Nanjiro sang over Ryoma's demands, as he moved outside, after picking up his son's tennis racket.

Unceremoniously dumping Ryoma on the court next to his racket, Nanjiro picked up his own racket and stood on the opposite side. Ryoma was extremely annoyed; he'd just played a long exhausting game with Kevin, and then met that Felix kid, it was cold, and all he wanted to do was cuddle Karupin on his bed and fall asleep. Nanjiro was stretching on the other side.

"Ne, brat, do your stretches."

"Yadda, no need," Ryoma growled, he just wanted to get this over with quickly.

Nanjiro narrowed his eyes shrewdly, "Heeh, you seem extra bad-tempered today, not that you aren't always bad-tempered, mind you. What's got your tail in a knot?"

Ryoma scowled, _what was with everyone likening him to a cat? _"Just serve already!" Ryoma snapped, and then stopped, realising that he sounded just like Kevin had before.

"That's exactly what I'm talking about," Nanjiro lectured, waggling his racket at his son. "You'll never get a girl if that's your attitude."

Ryoma cracked. He was not in the mood for this today. Letting the racket slip from his hands to fall onto the court, he stuck his hands in his pockets, and stalked back towards the house.

There was a choking sound from behind him, "N-NE! Ryoma! Don't you walk away from me!"

"Che," Ryoma said entering the house, _that one wouldn't work a second time this day. _

**EST**

Saturday went by almost uneventfully. Ryoma met up with Kevin again in the morning at the street courts, this time, Kevin won seven games to five. It seemed the two boys were evenly matched. Ryoma was surprised at the change in personality in Kevin, now that he seemed to have gotten over whatever his quarrel had been; he was like a completely different person. Bright and peppy, somewhat childish at times, but very passionate and enthusiastic; generally a nice guy. The fact that Kevin was an awesome tennis player helped a lot too.

Later, Ryoma granted his father a game of tennis, saying nothing when asked what his problem had been the night before. He fell asleep that night feeling undecided about the next day, while Kevin was all for meeting the Felix guy and going to this training club, Ryoma was a little more suspicious. There was something off about it, he knew that, but curiosity was tickling him. _Should I tell my father about Felix?_ Ryoma shut down that notion, what use had his baka oyaji been in situations like this?

_Situations like what?_ another part of Ryoma asked, _what_ _exactly is going on here anyway?_ He rolled over to stare at the dim ceiling. Really the only way to know was to go tomorrow… besides he should look out for Kevin… Ryoma groaned indecisively… should he stay or should he go? He glanced sideways at the silver card propped up on his bedside table; the words – _dare to play_ – glistened in the moonlight. That was the question really, did he dare?

**EST**

The two nine year olds stood outside the given address at 3:00pm the next day. It was a huge warehouse, bigger then a gymnasium. Ryoma eyed it dubiously, there was no sign out the front – nothing to indicate that it was as Felix had said – a training club.

"Do we knock? What do you think" Kevin cocked his head to the side, taking in the huge steel doors.

"Oh, no you go through the side door," a new voice said from right behind them. Ryoma and Kevin whirled around to see a boy their age smiling at them in amusement. Or at least it looked like amusement… maybe… Ryoma wasn't sure. The boy in front of them had his eyes closed, and was smiling kindly – if with a somewhat creepy – angelic look. He was a little taller then them, pale, had light blonde curls framing his face, and was dressed simply in a long sleeved white shirt that seemed a bit thin for the weather. He, like Felix, appeared to have a lithe, fit body, but he spoke in an airy way, as if in a dream, or as if everything in the world were pleasant. Overall he looked like a bishounen. (A/N that's like a pretty boy, I think.)

"Are you the new members? I sure hope so. I would like to play a game soon. They call me Moon, it is a pleasure to meet you." The boy smiled absent-mindedly.

"They call you Moon?" Ryoma asked.

"Yes. I suggest you don't use your real names inside. At least, not your real last names."

"Why's that?" Kevin piped up.

Moon smiled mildly. "It would be in your best interest." With that the boy moved off towards a smaller door to the side of the warehouse. He opened it, and then turned to look back at Ryoma and Kevin, who were still standing where he left them. "Coming?" Not waiting for an answer, Moon slid gracefully inside, the darkness swallowing him quickly from their view.

Ryoma and Kevin exchanged looks.

"I'm willing to bet that everyone in this place is weird," Kevin said, and Ryoma whole-heartedly agreed. But if he'd had a tickling curiosity before, now he was burning with it.

"Come on," Ryoma said and led the way to the side door. He had only a brief hesitation before stepping through, and the two boys found themselves in a dark narrow corridor.

"Moon?" Kevin called out cautiously, his voice echoed around, but no answer came. "Heh, must have gone up ahead."

"Aa."

Ryoma moved forward down the corridor, Kevin following close behind. Occasionally there were small windows high above that allowed the boys to see, but those were too few and far in-between to shed any real light. A distant noise echoed around them, it sounded like yelling… and there was the sound of balls rebounding… This was promising as both boys had brought their tennis rackets. They walked more swiftly down the train-track corridor, the noises gradually getting louder.

"Bloody hell, how big is this place," Ryoma heard Kevin mutter under his breath.

Eventually they came to a pair of double doors, a bright light spilled out from underneath it and it was clear that this was the source of the sounds.

"Err… wait," Kevin grabbed Ryoma's arm, he seemed nervous now. "Shouldn't we think of some names first?"

Ryoma shrugged, "Okay."

"What are you going to call yourself?"

Ryoma thought for a moment, before an idea struck him. _Hm, why not? He was his father's son, wasn't he?_

"Ryoma Samurai," he said boldly.

Kevin grinned, "Hey that's good! Umm… Oh, I know! How about Kevin… Braveheart! No… err… Kevin… Kevin… Lionheart! Yes that's it, Kevin Lionheart."

"Alright,"

The two boys looked at each other and Kevin's grin faltered.

"Err, after you then," Kevin nudged him.

"Che," Ryoma smirked, _Lionheart, my ass_. Nevertheless, Ryoma put his best foot forward and pushed down on the handle, swinging the door open.

Bright artificial light flooded them, and they stood blinking for several seconds, blinded by the sudden change. When their vision refocused, they gasped.

A huge training gymnasium stretched before them, but it was no normal gym. It seemed to be a jumble of various things. To their left were two normal tennis courts, but these paled in comparison to the equipment around them. To their right was what seemed to be an extremely advanced children's adventure playground, with hundreds of monkey bars, poles, tires and ropes all intertwined, behind that were various gymnastics equipment, rings, and balancing beams and more bars. The back wall was one of those indoor climbing rock walls, below that was a large blue mat. On the other side, was some weird, tall structures made to look like buildings, next to that there was – _an indoor swimming pool?!_ – and a bridge that crossed it. Weights and exercise gear took up a space next to that, ropes dangled from the ceiling, and next to the tennis courts were piles of equipment and clothes. Around the edge of the warehouse was a track of sand, like what you would find at an athletics stadium for racing. It was a little overwhelming.

But more so were the people training inside, if that's what it could be called. It was more like a surreal dream… there was no way… it all had to be some sort of elaborate trick, because what the people were doing simply wasn't possible.

On the tennis courts two people were playing a fast game, this in itself wasn't so special, but they were using _both_ courts. Hitting the ball back and forth with extreme power, speed, and precision, and yet somehow managing to keep up – almost blurring from court to court they were moving so fast, and the ball between them was moving faster then the eye could see. On the adventure playground there was someone flinging themselves around – practically flying through the air as they expertly twisted through bars, swung across ropes – flipping and spinning nearly ten meters off the ground. On the back wall a girl leapt from ledge to ledge, free-climbing with no apparent heed to her safety. A monster-sized black boy was lifting heavy weights, and on the large blue mat was Moon doing some stretches. There were only eight people in the room, counting themselves – but all of them looked about their age.

"Whoa…" Kevin breathed, summing up the sight nicely.

"Halt," a low familiar, smooth voice ordered, from the tennis courts. Ryoma looked closer and saw that one of the players was Felix. The fifteen year old had caught the tennis ball, and was standing waiting to gain everyone's attention. He seemed barely out of breath, while his opponent – who was half his size – was breathing heavily. Soon all other motion had stopped in the warehouse, the girl had jumped down and was now standing next to Moon on the mat, the boy doing the acrobats on the playground, did a last double flip before landing on the edge of the blue mat, and the large black boy set down his weights and lumbered over, shifting his shoulders and moving his neck to get out the kinks. The younger kids surrounded Felix on the edge of the blue mat at the start of the courts, Ryoma and Kevin observed silently from the doorway. The kids finally noticed the two newcomers, and eyed them curiously; Felix had his back to them.

"Well, are you two just going to stand there, or are you going to come in?" the handsome boy asked, without turning his head.

Kevin and Ryoma exchanged a quick glance, before just as silently starting forward towards the small group. They stood to one side, but facing Felix now.

"I'm glad you two decided to come," Felix praised them with his melodious tones, but once again the warmth didn't quite reach his eyes. "As you can see, we have few members so every person counts."

"Are they our new members?! Great-o!" the acrobat cheered, a wide smile threatening to split the loud boy's face. Then he seemed to realize that he'd interrupted. "Ahh, gomen, gomen, Felix-sensei!"

Ryoma flicked his eyes curiously at this kid, who obviously spoke Japanese, but his plume of wild red hair was disconcerting.

Felix gazed at the boy for a second longer, then said, "That's alright Kin-chan, but they are not new members unless they decide to commit themselves, this is only their first meeting after all."

"Hai, hai…Ano… gomen," 'Kin-chan' bowed.

"Introductions first then," Felix turned to Ryoma and Kevin, "me, you already know as Felix."

Moon smiled at them. "And me, as Moon."

"Duke. It's a pleasure," the tall, bald black boy boomed, though his huge muscles were a little intimidating, one wide white-toothed grin changed his whole aura from an impressive monster, to a kind of friendly giant.

"I am Sam; it will be interesting to see how this new development pans out." Sam was the small player who versed Felix on the courts; he had long brown hair, and a pair of round glasses was balanced on his nose.

The only girl in the room smirked at them arrogantly, before giving a dismissing sniff, and finding her nails to be of more interest. She had short, spiky red hair, and a pointed face, but sly eyes – giving Ryoma the impression of a fox. "Katara, I'm sure the pleasure's all yours."

"Katara, don't be so rude!" the wild red-head boy wagged a finger at her. "Don't mind my twin, she's just being baka. I'm Kintarou, but you can call me Kin-chan!" he used his thumb to point to himself and gave a huge wink along with his wild grin.

"Douzo yoroshiku," Ryoma said, (A/N which I'm pretty sure means 'Nice to meet you').

Kintarou blinked. "Ne! You speak Japanese! SUGOI!"

"Ittai! Will you shut up, you baka head!" his twin screamed as Kintarou had yelled in her ear.

"So what are your names?" Moon asked, smiling as always, but this time there was a very slight dangerous undertone to his words, silently reminding them of his warning outside.

"Kevin…Lionheart," Kevin said, with only the briefest of pauses.

"Ryoma Samurai."

**EST**

(A/N Just in case it wasn't clear, yes Kintarou is the same Kintarou from the OVAs. Everyone else are OCs, sorry, but necessary :D)

Surprisingly, everyone – apart form Felix – was nine years old, even Duke, with his extreme physique, and Sam, despite his small size. Ryoma and Kevin quickly found in first day, that as great as they were, their skills at tennis were not even close to these guys' levels. It wasn't just that they knew a lot more techniques, it was that their general speed, strength, coordination, power, agility, accuracy, flexibility – any ability really – completely trounced their own. It was a humbling experience, watching these guys play and work out. But Ryoma couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was missing something. Something they weren't telling Kevin or him, something they were holding back…

The trainings were ruthless though, not only did they play tennis, but they had to complete other training too, such as seeing how quickly they could collect numerous flags from an obstacle course in the adventure playground, or how quickly they could scale the wall, swim the length of the pool, or run around the track of sand. Seeing how far they could go in gruelling yoga exercises that stretched their bodies further then Ryoma thought possible, seeing how good their balance was, how high they could jump, how high they could fall from, and teaching them how to land safely using the gymnastics equipment, and how to roll to absorb shock. Seeing how many weights they could lift, or how many wet beanbags they could hit into buckets nearly fifty feet away. They even had fighting training sessions on the blue mat, but Ryoma and Kevin only watched those at first. The training was gruelling and dismal, because, to be quite frank, both Ryoma and Kevin sucked at it.

They were assured by everyone though that this was always the case to start off with, and that they would improve with time. It was all highly embarrassing though for Ryoma, especially since no one would play tennis with him apart from Kevin, they would all give him the same answer – that he wasn't ready yet.

Of course they came back after the first session, who could resist after tasting that? For the first two weeks they met on Sunday, Friday, and Tuesday too, seeing as it was the holidays. When school started again, Friday and Tuesday meetings were moved to night sessions. For both the boys it was easy to slip out unnoticed after dark. Kevin's Dad, who Ryoma found out was an alcoholic, was usually too drunk to notice, and Kevin's Mum no longer lived with them. For Ryoma, his okaasan was a busy lawyer usually caught up in work, or too exhausted coming home from work to notice anything but the coffee machine. And his father, well… Nanjiro was caught up in himself… Really, as long as Ryoma's father got his games of tennis he was happy, and would leave Ryoma well enough alone.

Ryoma and Kevin gradually grew closer to the members of the club, neither of them had ever been a part of a group like this before, so it was an entirely new experience for both of them. Kevin fast became Ryoma's first real best-friend, their similar tennis styles, and Kevin's easy going personality drew Ryoma in closer, and most importantly they understood one other. Kevin eventually told him why he had first hunted him down, how Nanjiro had once defeated his father, and everything that had happened after that. They walked home with one another from meetings, and sometimes Ryoma would go over to Kevin's house when his friend's father was out. Kevin started learning Japanese at school, and Ryoma helped him along with it.

Moon also became a friend, but not as close. His strange mysterious smile masked his real emotions most of the time, and his vague way of speaking made him hard to talk to. Ryoma had only seen Moon open his eyes once, and his jaw had nearly hit the ground. Moon's eyes were the colour of the most azure sky, baby blue eyes Ryoma had ever seen, but what struck him was the intense look of absolute sadness in his eyes – right before Moon smashed the ball so hard that it ended embedded in the court. Moon's general style of play was to almost float on court, taking light dancing steps across the court so fast he almost seemed to disappear and reappear. One time after practice, Moon had brought a violin with him, and he'd played the most beautiful, most haunting music Ryoma had ever heard. There were a lot of unknowns with Moon… Ryoma had a sneaking suspicion that Moon knew how to speak Japanese, but he'd never been able to definitely prove it. Also when Ryoma had pressed Moon about why he had been so insistent on false names, he had just smiled furtively, and said:

"Sometimes it better to have a secret identity."

Duke was a friendly guy, very loyal, with a barking laugh that resounded around the entire warehouse. While not the absolute brightest fellow in the world, he certainly took the title of strongest nine year old ever. Duke was always determined to do his best, a true monster on the court, he mostly played as a hard hitter – he had a shot that could probably kill someone at point black range – or even not a point blank range, come to think of it… Duke was best-friends with Sam, which Ryoma thought was the strangest friendship he'd ever seen. Duke also wouldn't stop calling Ryoma, "Little bro," no matter how many times Ryoma asked him not to.

Sam was genius. There was almost nothing the boy didn't know, Ryoma suspected that he had a photographic memory, as he'd once seen him reading a book as though just looking at the page numbers. Sam spoke five different languages, one of which was Japanese. He had the uncanny ability to predict a game, down to the number of rallies, where the ball would be hit, how it would be hit, and how to return it in near impossible speed. Being as small as he was, he was often overlooked, something he always used to his full advantage. When wearing his glasses his vision was a good as a hawk, when not wearing them he was as blind as a bat. Ryoma also found out that the names 'Duke' and 'Sam' were fake names, just like 'Moon' and Ryoma's and Kevin's supposed last names.

Katara was a vixen, and a rouge on court. Her words were as sharp and as witty as her movements. She would use cunning, and cutting strikes to destroy her opponent, before dancing away again like a professional assassin. Socially-wise, she began to ease up on Ryoma a tad, as she seemed to realise that his aloof, and sometimes sarcastic and cocky personality fit quite well with hers. Kevin, on the other hand, bore the full brunt of her unreasonable dislike, and the two bickered non-stop. During one of their more vocal fights, Moon had absently remarked that they were like a dog and a fox. Ryoma had raised an eyebrow at this comment.

"Don't you mean a dog and a cat?"

Moon smiled at him. "No, that would be you and Kevin. And for some reason you two get along fine."

"Yes," Sam put in, as he unwrapped some power-wrist weights and ankle weights. "We cannot understand it, technically you both have complete opposite personalities and yet you are the best of friends."

"Che, speak for Duke and yourself. That's practically like a bear being friends with a hawk." Ryoma took a sip from the can of Fanta in his hand, but stopped when he realised that both Moon and Sam were staring at him with the strangest expressions. Ryoma frowned, "Nani?"

"Nothing," they both said, and turned away.

Kintarou was a wild-child; he loved to play his abnormal, haphazard, acrobatic tennis, was always cheerful, and always loud. Though he looked wiry and sinewy, he was actually as strong as an orangutan, and he had passion and love of the game bursting from his seams. Ryoma found out, however, that the twins were orphans, and lived in an orphanage. Their names weren't fake either, Kintarou had told him that there wasn't any need for the twins to have false identities.

Felix was distant from the kids, and was still a bit of a mystery. He was a very strict coach, unsympathetic, and unyielding in training. The handsome boy pushed everyone hard in an almost Spartan schedule, everyone obeyed him, everyone respected him, and everyone slightly feared him. His talent was so great that he hardly broke a sweat, and never grew tired or exhausted. Felix always wore black, almost always had a cigarette in his hand, and sometimes a bottle of alcohol. The first time Ryoma and Kevin saw this, Kevin freaked out and the two got into their first real fight, as Kevin wanted to go and confront Felix about it and Ryoma had to physically stop him. Ryoma had been afraid for his friend, he was pretty sure that alcohol wouldn't dim Felix's abilities – especially when it came to physical fighting. That was another thing about Felix; he wouldn't hesitate to hit one of them if they went against him. Eventually Kevin had calmed down, and apologised ceaselessly for nearly five minutes, Ryoma forgave him but he had to go home sporting a whopper of a black eye.

Ryoma himself… he felt like he was living two lives. There was the normal one, where he woke up late, barely made it to school on time, went to class, slept through Japanese, slept through lunch, did his homework, played a game of tennis with the old man, and went to sleep. Then there were the days he went to training, those days or nights left him so tired by the next morning, that he could barely drag himself out of bed. But after six weeks, the training was definitely starting to pay off, and Ryoma could feel himself improving, soon stuff he had found hard and gruelling to begin with became easier, and he found himself barely out of breath after running twenty laps around the sand-track.

During school hours he slept a lot, and generally avoided other people. With his new friends however, he found himself opening up, smiling more, even laughing, playing around with Kintarou on the equipment, trying to beat Katara up the wall, trying to beat Moon in running, Duke in weights, Kevin in tennis, and training with Felix in fighting. Sam helped a bit with school work, when members found themselves slipping behind. But the first real change happened seven weeks after Ryoma first joined.

He had been going through a new advanced obstacle course, collecting small coloured ribbons among the adventure playground. He had already run thirty laps around the sand track, swam twenty laps of the pool, done fifty push ups and eighty sit ups, climbed the wall, and hit wet bean bags into buckets fifty feet away – without missing a single one. Ryoma was at his utmost limit, but Kevin had already completed the course, so if Kevin could do it, he could do it…

…The next thing he knew, he woke up on the blue mat.

"Ryoma!" Kevin cried in relief, swamping him in a life-squeezing hug. The rest of the gang surrounded him, and nearly all of them were grinning, even Felix had a handsome smirk on his lips, Kevin seemed to be the only one in distress.

"Kevin let me up, I'm fine!" his blonde friend relented and Ryoma wearily sat up.

"W-what happened?" _The last thing I remember I was taking the course…_

"You did it Ryoma-kun!" Kintarou cheered, turning and glomping his sister in delight. Katara gave a squawk of indignation, and struggled free.

"Did what?" Ryoma was confused, and feeling a little dazed. "I completed the course?"

"That too," Moon smiled.

"But more importantly you surpassed your limit, you broke through to what we call Level Five," Sam said.

"Yeah, good going, Little Bro," Duke patted him on the back, leaving Ryoma half-winded.

"Level… Five…?"

"You used my triple flip, double spin! It was awesome!"

Ryoma looked at his wild friend in disbelief. "Yeah right, Kin-chan, I can barely do a double flip."

"That doesn't matter when you reach Level Five." Sam pushed his glasses back more securely on his face. "Now you are probably wondering what the Levels are, correct?"

"Hai…"

"It is quite simple really. There are six known Levels overall. Level One is child's-play, nearly anyone can do it, it is amateur, and is basically just warming up. Level Two requires an intermediate skill, with a little more complicated moves and techniques. Level Three is more advanced. It is approximately what your skill level was when you first came, it uses more advanced techniques and specialities, like in tennis your 'Twist Serve'."

"Aa,"

"Level Four is more complicated again; it uses a wider range of techniques, your general skill level increases, such as your power, speed, accuracy, etcetera. Most people in tennis do not go above this Level. However, you just have. Level Five is something completely different; the Japanese call it, _Muga no Kyōchi _or the State of Self Actualization. A state in which the user naturally intakes all techniques they see and can perfectly copy them, all abilities increase and your play style is completely unpredictable. There are generally three doors to this Level, three 'pinnacles' that are considered the epitome of tennis."

"I'm sensing a 'but' right about now," Ryoma remarked dryly.

Sam smiled. "But this is in fact wrong, there are Levels beyond this, but it is not well known to society. The nature of Level Five disconnects you from your mind, so that you're playing at a sub-conscious level and acting on instincts before thinking. As a result you do not feel pain, or exhaustion, nor do you entirely remember what happens. Level Six is different." Suddenly Sam hesitated, and looked up at Felix, as if waiting for his permission.

Felix drew a long draught from his cigarette, blowing it out slowly, his calculating hazel eyes fixed on Ryoma's face.

"I think," Felix began in his usual silky voice, "that you're finally ready to know. All of you."

The atmosphere went tense, Kevin and Ryoma were spell-bound, _were they at last going to get some answers?_

Ryoma licked his lips, unable to help asking, "Know what?"

Wisps of smoke curled around Felix, his hazel eyes bore into Ryoma's golden ones.

"About Extreme Streets Tennis. The ultimate game."

**EST**

"The majority of you are all Level Six already, except for our newest members." Felix nodded towards Kevin and Ryoma. "The rest of you have already surpassed the third pinnacle of Level Five, the _Pinnacle of Perfection_, and evolved. But since Ryoma and Kevin arrived, you've all of held off going beyond the second pinnacle on my request. However from this moment on, you are all allowed to go as far as you can once more." A murmur of pleasure flowed through the troop of kids around Ryoma. "Level Six is a level that goes back to the time of the ancient warriors. The warriors would meditate in the sub-conscious state, or Level Five, and would search inside themselves… to find their inner ancient animal spirit. Once they find it, the spirit is brought out and transferred to their weapons, when battling they no longer are barely conscious of their opposition, or their surroundings, only the opposing animal spirits. In their eyes, the battle becomes one between the animal spirits."

"I… don't understand," Kevin said, looking confused.

Felix puffed on the fag, "You will when you achieve it. The others already have… and the animal spirit doesn't have to be a real animal, in other words it can be a mythological creature. For example mine… is a Griffin."

"Mine is a wolf," Moon smiled.

Kintarou excitedly threw his hand up in the air, bouncing on the spot. "Mine is an orangutan!"

"Fox," Katara drawled.

"Bear," Duke boomed

"Hawk," said Sam.

Moon shifted his weight. "What of this 'Extreme Streets Tennis' though?" he asked in a dreamy manner. "You've hinted towards it in the past, but never actually informed us about it." Felix turned his head slightly and considered Moon.

Then he said softly, "Alright. However, I can only tell you, if you all swear by your very lives, that you will not speak another word of this to anyone." His eyes were cold slits of gleaming hazel. There was a group gulp. But one by one they swore not to tell. Felix gave a slow nod. "Extreme Streets Tennis is unlike anything you've ever seen before," he started, staring off to the side as memories clouded his eyes. "The game is not only extremely dangerous to play, but requires extreme Levels of all abilities; power, speed, concentration, strength, teamwork, force, agility, accuracy, spin, coordination, balance, flexibility, and precision. It can only be played by those who can reach at least Level Five, and requires a team of seven people, one of which is a captain, plus optional coach or manager. Anyone can play between the ages of ten to twenty-five, after that you retire with your spoils, or become a manager or coach."

"Spoils? What do you mean by that?" Katara asked, narrowing her eyes at Felix from her squatted position on the blue mat.

"It means money, fame, fortune, respect, and power, whatever you desire really. You see, Extreme Streets Tennis is a game of the underworld. And what I mean by that is, that it doesn't come up in everyday conversation, and that if the authorities did know about it, it would probably become illegal." There was a group intake of breath at this new revelation. Ryoma gazed at Felix, a faint frown marring his face. Felix continued, flicking his eyes from one person to another. "At a higher station, this game is played world-wide, and then it becomes a billionaires' game, they make bets on which team will win. The winners of those games get the reward of at least five million dollars a person." Kintarou made a choking sound and stared wide-eyed at Felix.

"But we won't play in those games." Felix sucked on his cigarette, speaking around it. "We'll play in tournaments here in America; the prize money here is about two hundred and fifty thousand dollars a person. Not only that, but you gain the respect and fame throughout the underground world, gain the power of influence, the power to pull strings. People will listen to you, or risk running against the big gangs in EST." Here Felix's eyes glittered darkly, but it was gone in a flash when he looked up, so fast in fact that Ryoma wondered if he imagined it. "So this game is extremely popular, why? It's because playing Extreme Streets is the most exhilarating experience of a life time. The entire team naturally loses themselves completely in the game; it conjures a more glorious euphoric feeling, unachieved by any amount of alcohol, sex, or drugs.

"The thrill of the game absorbs you, and absorbs any who watch it too. It is pure genius, and the players become practically inhuman. It's only been invented in the last ten years, so a lot of people who aren't in the right circles don't know about it. But those that are, have completely hit off with it from the very start. It's spread through the underworld like wildfire, becoming a game to live by – a game to die for. As I said before, it's the ultimate game."

"So how do you play?" Kevin asked a little warily.

"As you might have guessed, it's a little like tennis. At least, there is a ball, and you have rackets. But there's no court, no real boundaries. All seven players play at the same time, along with seven of the opposition. You serve a special ball, different from tennis, and use rackets that are slightly longer and wider then your average racket. What you have to do, quite simply, is hit the ball towards one of your players, letting the ball bounce twice, and see how many passes you can get. The aim of the game is to get more passes then the opposite team, and to do this you have to intercept their passes, while keeping your own. Serves interchange between players on both teams and the game ends when the number of passes reaches 1000."

"_1000?!_" nearly everyone gaped. Ryoma remained stoic, his golden eyes fixed unmoving on Felix.

"But… I don't understand… that doesn't sound too exciting or dangerous…?" Kevin frowned.

"You're right; it wouldn't be so dangerous if it was set in say, a flat field in the middle of nowhere. But these games are rarely set in places like that. People want the full advantage of them, and so they are generally played in more complex places – on top of buildings, or bridges, cruise ships, and car tips. Once one was even played on a highway." A faint smiled curled Felix's lips.

Kevin sweat-dropped. "O-Okay, that sounds dangerous."

"And you want us to play this game?" Moon asked mildly, still smiling as if asking about the weather.

Felix's eyes flashed again, but it was with something too fast for Ryoma to identify. He dropped the cigarette on the grey warehouse floor and crushed it, then stood up straight to survey them all. The handsome fifteen year old made an intimidating presence in front of the seven kids, and when he spoke his voice commanded attention. "Yes! Because some things are worth the risk. This game brings life to its very fullest! You will reach those other two Levels, think of how far your skill Levels have improved already! You could become the best, stand on top of the world, travel the world, buy your dream house, your dream _island_ if you win enough times. Dare to play this game, and you can do anything in the world!"

_Dare to play…_

Ryoma remembered the silver card, and a shiver of anticipation and excitement coursed through him.

"We could get out of the orphanage…" Katara mumbled.

"We could buy our own house…" Kintarou followed.

"Become the strongest…" Duke rumbled.

"Have no need to hide…" Moon murmured to himself, his sad blue eyes were open.

"Be greater than my father ever was…" Kevin whispered.

"Have access to all the knowledge and advanced technology in the world…" Sam said softly.

_Stand on top of the world, as__ Number One…_ Ryoma thought, the flame inside him burned more fiercely every second he thought about it.

_Did they dare?_

Yes they did.

**EST**

**A/N**

**And that was the start. **

**Hmm… that was longer then I thought it would be…**

**Next chapter will be up next Friday: Nanjiro finds out!**

**Arigato guzaimasu!**

– _**Mel XX**_


	2. Nanjiro Finds Out!

Extreme Streets Tennis

**Hello! **

**Here's the next chapter, I hope you'll like it.**

**EST**

Nanjiro was worried.

The last sixteen months for him had been mind-blowing to say the least, and all because of his now eleven year old son; Ryoma.

It wasn't normal, of that Nanjiro was pretty much certain. He had wanted his son to be great, to be the best, _but… still… he wasn't quite expecting…_ No, it was by no means normal. He had trained Ryoma in tennis since he was just two years old, he knew that his son was most definitely a genius prodigy in tennis… a tensai… _but this was insane… it was inhuman… there was no way… there was definitely something going on… there was definitely something wrong…_

Nanjiro had first noticed it at the end of last year, when Ryoma had declined his tennis game, and then refused to tell him why. After that it just got stranger. Some days he would be so tired for no reason at all, practically falling asleep on his feet. Teachers often called from school and complained that Ryoma was sleeping in class. Meal times became horrendous because Ryoma suddenly started eating huge amounts of food, even though he was only small. He also was talking even less around the house_, if he was even there…_ Ryoma abruptly took up the habit of disappearing from the house during weekends, or he came home late from school just in time for dinner and for their daily tennis match.

Nanjiro eventually just assumed that his anti-social son had finally found some friends, _so miracles do exist! Hooray! Confetti!_ However it seemed that Ryoma was embarrassed about it, as he was very reluctant to talk about these new-found friends. At first Nanjiro had tried questioning Ryoma about them, which progressed to interrogation, and when this failed he tired a different method. _Extra training! A sure plan to make the brat spill the beans! _But this didn't work out quite as well as he thought it would…

– _Four weeks after Ryoma's tenth birthday – (A/N which is five weeks after Ryoma's first meeting with Felix)_

"_Ne, brat, why were you late again today?" Nanjiro asked as he served the ball, hoping to catch Ryoma out into answering his question._

_Ryoma sliced it back. "None of your business, old man!" _

"_None of my business!" Nanjiro laughed as he easily countered it. "I'm your oyaji, which makes it my business."_

"_Yadda," Ryoma replied as he smashed the ball. _

Vroom

_Nanjiro blinked in surprise, _that_ had been a fast smash, and totally unexpected…_

"_Che," Nanjiro stood up, placing his racket on his shoulder. "Fine, you don't want to tell me? Then we'll stop playing this match."_

_Ryoma looked apathetic. "Whatever," he shouldered his racket too, and made to walk towards the house._

"_Ne, not so fast, brat."_

_Ryoma paused and looked at him from under his hat._

_Nanjiro pointed his racket at his son, "I said we would stop playing, not that you could go. Mada Mada Dane! You've had it easy so far, obviously too easy, so you're going to train a bit, it's been a long time since I made you do laps, or sit-ups, or push-ups…So now… do thirty push-ups!"_

_Ryoma stared at him for a long moment, then said under his breath, "Che, baka oyaji," and set down his racket. Dropping to the ground, he began the exercise. Nanjiro grinned in success, then moved over to the wooden platform outside the house, and sat down cross-legged – sighing in content as he did so. Closing his eyes, he breathed in a deep breath through his nose and let it out through his mouth. A slight noise alerted him to some movement, and he snapped open his eyes to see Ryoma with his tennis racket trying to quietly sneak past him._

"_NE! Brat, don't think you can get away that easily, finish the push-ups!"_

_Ryoma scowled at him. "I did," he stuck his free hand in his pocket._

_Nanjiro snorted, "Nani? You think I've gone soft in the head, boy? There's no way you could have done thirty push-ups just then. Heeeh, start again."_

_Ryoma locked his jaw, and his golden cat-like eyes blazed, but he dropped his racket, turned around and got down on the ground once more. This time Nanjiro watched him do them, and his eyes slowly widened, as they were completed in record time. Ryoma stood up and dusted his hands off, moving to once again to pick up his red racket. _

"_Matte!" Nanjiro held up a hand. "Sixty sit-ups!"_

_Ryoma tugged on his hat, pulling it over his eyes, but complied with Nanjiro's request. Once again the exercise was completed in record time. Nanjiro narrowed his eyes at his son, he wasn't even sweating or breathing heavily as he usually was by this time. Ryoma stood up again and gazed at him unblinking, hands once again in his pockets. _

_Nanjiro scowled. "Thirty laps around the house, including the tennis court!" he barked._

_Ryoma rolled his eyes, and then launched gracefully into a loping run. Nanjiro watched him go, still frowning. Usually Ryoma would complain more too, or at least try to argue… he didn't usually just follow orders like this, not without a cutting sarcastic remark or the like… And why was he always so late anyway? What the hell was going on? Nanjiro crossed his arms and sat deep in thought for a few minutes._

"_Are we finished now?" Ryoma asked in a bored tone._

_Nanjiro's head shot up to see Ryoma several feet away, he hadn't even heard the boy approaching!_

"_You finished?" he asked warily._

"_Duh."_

Again in record time…_"Ne, what's with that tone, che, always such a brat," Nanjiro said, closing his eyes as he tried to hide his uneasiness. Something brushed by him, and he opened his eyes again to see Ryoma walk into the house with his racket in hand – but walking so softly – Nanjiro had to really strain to hear the footsteps, even on a wooden floor. Since when did this happen? Since when had Ryoma gotten so fit? Since when…?_

…had he grown without me noticing? 

–_Back to present time –_

And there was something else that made it obvious all wasn't quite well with Ryoma.

– _Three weeks after Ryoma's tenth Birthday –_

"_Get your ass on the court, brat," Nanjiro said during his usual before-game stretches. Ryoma walked slowly onto the court, his face half-hidden in the shadow of his cap. Nanjiro inwardly scoffed, _what was the boy doing now?If he thought he could hide behind his hat, he was wrong. _"Here it comes, brat, are you ready for this?"_

"_Hurry up and serve." Ryoma sounded annoyed. _

"_Nani? You should have more patience, brat." Throwing the ball into the air, Nanjiro narrowed his eyes, taking in his son's position; he smirked, and then executed a Perfect Twist Serve. The serve was almost faster then the human eye could follow, it hit the exact point Nanjiro had aimed at, reverse spun, and then flew up. Ryoma swore, and ducked – his hat fell from his head._

"_BAKA OYAJI! What are you trying to do, kill me?!" _

_Nanjiro just stared, and then cracked up laughing, "PAHAHAHA! Your face! AHAHA! What happened? Did mimicking pandas suddenly become the new fashion?! Hahaha!"_

"_Hilarious. You're so funny I forgot to laugh," Ryoma said flatly. A whopper of a black eye marred his face; and Nanjiro was practically rolling on the ground with uncontained amusement. _

– _Present time –_

He hadn't thought much of it at first… but then… it had not only continued, but it had got worse. Ryoma sometimes came home totally covered in bruises and grazes and cuts. When asked about it he replied that he 'fell' or 'tripped over', but it soon became apparent that Ryoma was being mixed up in fights… a lot of fights involving fists, judging by the frequent bruises.

– _One month after Ryoma's tenth birthday –_

_Nanjiro watched his son intensely as he wiped the sweat off his face after a long game, he winced as he accidentally touched a painful looking bruise on his chin._

"_Ryoma," Nanjiro started, for once being serious. The green haired boy looked up at his tone, seeming surprised that his father had used his real name for once. "Ryoma," Nanjiro said again hesitantly, _damn this was awkward…_ "Are you having trouble in school?"_

_Ryoma's face changed to one of confusion. "Nani?"_

"_I mean," Nanjiro frowned and rubbed the back of his head with his racket. "Are you being bullied?"_

_The confusion vanished, and Ryoma's eyebrows rose in pure scepticism._

"_Yadda," Ryoma turned on his heel and began walking away. But Nanjiro wasn't ready to leave it at that. He flounced after his son._

"_If someone's bothering you, you don't have to bear it all yourself! I'm your father, you can trust me." Ryoma ignored him, and instead walked faster. "You know you can talk to me!" he yelled after him, but there was no reply._

– _Present time –_

It wasn't until later that Nanjiro began to suspect something much worse, especially after that alarming revelation a little over a month ago…

"_Uhe, uhe… (yawn) Uhe, uhe," Nanjiro sang sleepily to himself as he moved through the dark house at two o'clock in the morning. Opening the fridge, he took out a carton of milk and drank straight from it, letting out an "Ahhh!" of refreshment, and using his sleeve to wipe his mouth. Placing the carton back in the fridge, Nanjiro drowsily moved to go back to bed, when he noticed a faint light from outside. _

"_Heeeh, who left a light on? Geez, that brat…" he sighed, and changed direction to go outside. Rinko was on a business trip at the moment so it was currently just the two males in the house. As Nanjiro walked outside into the cool night air, he noticed that it was a full moon out. This, coupled with his good vision, resulted in him being able to see almost just as well as in the day-time. He breathed in the cool air deeply, and looked around for the source of the light._

Strange_… Nanjiro frowned and looked up. The light was coming from the second floor. _Nani? _He moved backwards, away from the house, so that he could see up properly. This revealed the light to be coming from the window of Ryoma's bedroom – the boy's lamp was on. _

"_Che, what is that brat doing up at 2:00am?" Nanjiro asked himself as he reached around to scratch his behind. "Annoying kid." Then a movement from the roof caught his gaze. Nanjiro narrowed his eyes, zeroing on it, and then he froze. Ryoma was lying on the roof, staring up at the stars, one hand was folded behind his head so he was resting on it like a pillow, in the other hand…_

_Ryoma held a lit cigarette._

_Nanjiro watched as motionless as a statue; Ryoma brought the cigarette to his mouth. The end of the fag flared in the night, glowing red as it seemed to wink evilly, like it was purposely mocking him. Nanjiro's eyes remained fixed on the sight before him, he was unable to tear himself away – a thousand thoughts were running through his mind, and all of them were incoherent. A stream of smoke spilled out between Ryoma's lips, and it hung above him in a misty cloud twisting as the wind caught it. Nanjiro swallowed suddenly as rage reared inside of him – he gritted his teeth, then moved quietly back towards the house, just as quietly going inside, climbing the stairs, and entering his son's room. _

_The room was the same as ever, with Ryoma's rackets, school bag and clothes slung haphazardly in a corner. Karupin was curled up on the bed next to Ryoma's discarded white cap, the bedside lamp was on, and the window was open. Nanjiro pulled a chair over to the wall with the window, and sat down to await his son's return. He tried to keep himself calm, but inside he was seething and fuming vehemently._

_After about ten minutes Nanjiro heard the roof above him creak, and then suddenly Ryoma came swinging in through the window, to land lightly in a crouch in the middle of the bedroom floor. There was a silent still moment when the world seemed to be holding its breath. Nanjiro saw Ryoma's shoulders tense as he sensed that he wasn't alone. The boy half-stood and turned around in one quick fluid action. Ryoma's eyes widened slightly as they met his father's. Nanjiro stared back at him, trying to remain impassioned._

"_Nice fag?" he asked in a dangerously soft voice, the light from the lamp half illuminating his face._

_Ryoma flinched faintly. "Oyaji." _

"_What… do you think you are doing?" Nanjiro struggled to keep his voice even, and a waver of fury managed to slip through into his words. _

_Ryoma was silent, the boy looked at the floor; his hair hid his face and threw his eyes into shadow. _

"_Well?" Nanjiro snapped, his hold on control beginning to falter. "What do you have to say for yourself?" _

_Ryoma remained silent._

_And this, over everything else, finally pushed Nanjiro too far. _Couldn't he at least meet my eyes!? _His temper raged within him and he saw red. With a wild roar he flew across the room, grabbing his son by the collar, and lifting him several feet off the ground – shaking him as if he could shake some common sense into him. _

"_DAMN IT RYOMA! YOU'RE ELEVEN YEARS OLD!" _

"_G-Gomen! I'm sorry!" Ryoma gasped, "…It-Ittai… oyaji…"_

_Nanjiro glared at him with barely contained fury, but the look of pained terror on Ryoma's face slowly made the anger fall away, like sand through a sieve. A wave of overbearing tiredness washed over Nanjiro, and he suddenly felt much older then his age. _

_He half-heartedly placed Ryoma back on the ground, where his son continued to stand looking like a frightened little kid – exactly what he was. The two stood in the room, both looking at the ground half a foot away from each other, the silence churned around them in a surreal way. _

"_How long?" Nanjiro eventually broke it._

"_G-Gomen?"_

"_How long has this been going on? Smoking?"_

_Ryoma shifted uncomfortably as he thought. "About… six months," he reluctantly revealed._

"_Six months?!" Nanjiro's temper flared again, but this time directed more at himself. It had taken him six – _months_ – to notice?! _

_Ryoma winced; and Nanjiro breathed deeply through his nose to try and calm himself. _

_Then he held out his hand. "Give them here. Now," he ordered, his cold tone leaving no room for argument. Ryoma reached into his pocket and took out a box of cigarettes, placing them in his father's hand, he still didn't look at Nanjiro. "There is no more from this moment on." Nanjiro pocketed the packet. "You will quit. Understand?"_

_Ryoma nodded silently. Nanjiro run a frustrated hand through his hair. "That's it Ryoma. This is the last straw, what the fuck is going on?" he demanded. _

_But to Nanjiro's shock, Ryoma then did something he hadn't seen his son do since he was a toddler. _

_He began to cry. _

_Nanjiro watched stunned, as rivulets of silent tears traced their way down Ryoma's face. His son made no movement nor sound, but the tears still came unchecked, as they dampened his clothes and dripped with a wet 'plop' to the floor. Nanjiro's blood ran cold and he floundered in uselessness for a moment, before the sight became too much and he moved on instinct. He reached out and grabbed his son's arm, and in one swift motion, pulled him forward so the boy's head rested on his chest. Ryoma gave a gasping sob and his shoulders shuddered in his father's arms. Nanjiro could feel his shirt becoming wet from the boy's tears, but he didn't say anything. Instead he gathered Ryoma up and gently sat down on the bed next to Karupin. The boy buried his face in Nanjiro's shirt, and there they stayed until finally Ryoma fell asleep in his arms. _

_But Nanjiro didn't sleep. He ran his fingers through Ryoma's dark green silky locks, eyes on his son's face. Ryoma looked so peaceful when he slept, and so kawaii…_

"_Ah, brat," Nanjiro whispered fondly, "seriously… you sure can be troublesome." As smoothly as possible he moved Ryoma onto the bed, and tucked him in. Then he crept out of the room, switched off the lamp, and closed the door behind him. Once in the corridor he stood still for a moment, and then pulled out the box of confiscated cigarettes to examine them more closely. They weren't his brand of fags, so the brat couldn't have stolen them from his supply, and Rinko didn't smoke… so really there was only one other explanation…_

_Those newfound 'friends' of Ryoma's… _

– _Present time –_

But perhaps the most disturbing thing of all the events in the last sixteen months, were the two's daily tennis matches…

At first Ryoma's vigour in tennis seemed to dwindle, for some reason he was already exhausted when he played Nanjiro in the afternoon, and he lost worse then usual. Nanjiro had wondered initially if Ryoma was ill, and that was the reason behind his depleting energy. But as time progressed it became apparent that this was by no means the case, and Nanjiro recognised the exhaustion as the results of continuous overloading exercising. He would have reprimanded his son for this, but then… Ryoma's talent in tennis began increasing. The force behind his shots grew more powerful, he was moving faster, reacting quicker, generally improving in all aspects. Techniques that Nanjiro had never taught Ryoma began to slip into their games, and originally he was greatly pleased by his son's advancement, whatever Ryoma was doing was undeniably working.

…however…

It worked really well. Too well. Ryoma was progressing faster then he ever thought possible at ten years of age. As the weeks went by Nanjiro found, to his astonishment, that he actually had to start concentrating on the games, he found himself having to work harder to return his son's shots, and by the end of their games he was out of breath… During the day Nanjiro really began anticipating their games before dinner, his thoughts were rarely on anything else those days, and his heart would beat faster with excitement when he thought about Ryoma's burst of evolution.

It wasn't until six weeks after Ryoma's tenth birthday that Nanjiro realised that what his son was doing really wasn't… normal… Actually it was practically impossible…

_Nanjiro lunged for the ball, and used a super uprising to smack it into the corner of the opposite court. He allowed himself a smirk as sweat dripped off his face, there was no way that kid could get there in time, the brat was at his limit, _so this point is min– NANI?!

_Ryoma skidded into place behind the ball and switched hands with the racket, so he could hit it back using his forehand. The ball rocketed back over the net and passed Nanjiro before he could even blink. Nanjiro gaped, _how had that brat done that? _He looked over at Ryoma, and his jaw dropped even further_… no way…

"Muga no Kyōchi_…" he whispered in awe. Ryoma looked up – his eyes had changed, and he seemed to be standing differently… taller somehow – he looked older. _But he's only ten years old!_ Nanjiro thought incredulously, _how could he have achieved the State of Self-Actualization at ten years of age, that's impossible! _But there was no other rational explanation; the proof was right in front of his eyes. Ryoma had gone beyond his limits, and exceeded Nanjiro's expectations. The ex-pro was staggered and stunned beyond belief. He himself hadn't reached _Muga no Kyōchi_ until he was fourteen…_

"_Ne, old man, it's your serve," Ryoma called, the boy was in the receiving position and waiting for his father to snap out of it. Nanjiro shook his head, taking a ball out of his pocket. _Che, did the brat even know that he'd surpassed himself?_ Standing at the baseline, Nanjiro got ready to serve. He smirked; _well at least now he could see how far Ryoma could really go, _throwing the ball up in the air he served a fast serve._

_Ryoma hit it back easily, and Nanjiro had to sprint to catch his return, he slammed it back with a top-spin, which Ryoma countered with one of his own – forcing Nanjiro to once again lunge for the ball. A chance ball was hit, and Nanjiro swore and stood ready to counter what would probably be a smash. But then Ryoma did something strange. Caught up in _Muga no Kyōchi_, Ryoma took two running steps, leapt high into the air, twisting his body as he did so – _and smashed the ball upside down! _– Then he flipped in mid-air, and landed in a couched pose with one hand on the ground to balance himself, the other with the racket held out to the side, ready for his father's return. That never came. _

_Nanjiro just stood there, stupefied by the inconceivable level of flexibility and acrobatics that Ryoma was displaying. _

– _Present Time –_

That hadn't been the end of it either… soon it was apparent that Ryoma had opened the first door of the State of Self-Actualization, and then learnt to control it by moving the _Pinnacle of Hard Work_ to whatever body-part needed it. A few more weeks had past, and then Ryoma had the second door open. By that time, Nanjiro was definitely starting to get worried; his son was growing at an unstoppable pace. At that rate Nanjiro would soon have his greatest dream fulfilled, he would have his son as his greatest rival in tennis… _But it wasn't supposed to have happened this quickly…_ Nanjiro had assumed that they wouldn't become great rivals until Ryoma was sixteen, fifteen at the very least. But then, he'd also assumed that Ryoma's play-style would be a copy of his own, and he'd been wrong in this as well. Then about half-way through the last year, something truly scary happened…

Nanjiro had been forced to go to the very limit of all his abilities while versing Ryoma, and that meant pulling out the inner Samurai… the _Teni Muhō No Kiwami_ or the _Pinnacle of Perfection_, the third and last Pinnacle of tennis. Nanjiro was having an enormous amount of fun, that was, until Ryoma pulled out _his_ inner Samurai.

_Ryoma's hat slipped off as he spun around, hitting a backwards for__ehand as he twisted his body around. The light caught his green hair as it flung around, transforming it almost into a completely different colour and hairstyle. Ryoma's eyes seemed wild, _no, they were a different colour too_! Instead of their usual golden, they were now green, the same colour as his hair. The ball disappeared; only Nanjiro's _Teni Muhō_ induced vision allowed him to see it flash past. He looked back at the Samurai Junior, to see a true smile gracing the boy's face._

_Ryoma pointed his racket at Nanjiro, his green hair and eyes giving him an ethereal appearance._

"_Mada Mada Dane!"_

Nanjiro had lost. Afterwards he had stood motionless for several minutes unable to comprehend that his son, that Ryoma, had finally become his ultimate rival.

They still continued to play everyday after that, but now the tables had turned. It was Ryoma that won match after match; it was Nanjiro that was scrambling after the ball, Nanjiro who was left sweating on the ground, _Teni Muhō_ or no _Teni Muhō_. Everyday Ryoma beat him, said his signature motto, then picked up his hat with his racket and pulled it back onto his head. When Ryoma put his hat back on, the _Teni Muhō _would fade, and his hair and eyes would return to normal. It was mind-blowing, what his ten year old son had done. _What he was – _still_ – doing!_ Because Ryoma hadn't stopped there…

– _Three Months ago –_

_Ryoma took up his position on the other side of the net, falling automatically into the ingrained form. His green hair blew gently in the breeze, his shirt rustling as it swirled around him. Nanjiro panted from his place in the receiving pose, if he had still had his old hair, he would've tied it up by now. Ryoma paused, staring at the ground in a kind of trance. Nanjiro watched in confusion as Ryoma closed his eyes, and began breathing in time with the wind. _What was… the brat… doing now…?

_All of a sudden Ryoma's eyes flew open and something, Nanjiro couldn't quite pinpoint what, changed in his stance. Ryoma's eyes were glazed over, the pupil's were wider then normal, and they were sparkling with a cosmos of rainbow-like colours. Ryoma stared at Nanjiro as if he wasn't really seeing him at all and Nanjiro stared back – completely petrified. He got the certain impression – _no, the utter conviction –_ that the person in front of him wasn't Ryoma at all. Instead, here was something much more ancient, more mysterious, something wilder, more _dangerous_…_

_Ryoma served._

_Nanjiro's eyes widened._

_Then he dived out of the way. _

It was insane, that was for sure. Not in the way of mental stability, but in nature. Ryoma went against the very laws of nature, what he was doing wasn't just damn near abnormal, it was downright impossible. Nanjiro didn't know what had happened that day, had Ryoma been possessed? Or was this a new level of tennis, unlike anything the world had ever seen before?

"_What the fuck was that?!" Nanjiro barked from his half standing position on the court._

_Ryoma shouldered his racket, looking down on him with his head thrown slightly up and away, and a sort of feral half-grin on his face. _

_Then Ryoma spoke in a voice that was much deeper then his usual._

"_Samurai Dragon."_

– _Present time –_

'_Samurai Dragon_' Nanjiro remembered dully, _what was that? Some sort of new technique?_ Ryoma had had an aura about him that was otherworldly, and from then on he became not only unbeatable, but unplayable. Nanjiro was unable to compete with that level of tennis, and so Ryoma was forced to – Nanjiro grimaced at the mere thought – go _easy_ on _him_.

After the game had finished though; Ryoma had won, had said his customary motto, put his favorite cap back on – and promptly collapsed where he stood. It seemed that this 'Samurai Dragon' took a lot out of him. So they continued to have their daily games, but Ryoma's ultimate technique didn't resurface.

Now it was nearly two months after Ryoma's eleventh birthday, and for the first time ever, he wasn't home for their daily father-son tennis match. Nanjiro was sulking on the wooden veranda in front of the courts, his chin was propped up on one hand, and his tennis racket was discarded next to him. It was the weekend and the brat was late coming back from playing with those mysterious 'friends' of his. Ryoma had disappeared straight after breakfast that morning, and had been gone all day.

Nanjiro had never found out about Ryoma's 'friends', even after all the – still present, but less frequent – bruises, and after that horrible revelation that Ryoma was addicted to smoking… That's right, addicted. The shitty brat had been smoking for so long that he'd actually become hooked on the damn fags – at eleven years of age! Nanjiro clenched his fists just thinking about it, _if he ever got his hands on the one responsible for hooking Ryoma up with them…_ Nanjiro sighed in lamentation. But Ryoma had clammed up about that, his son had promised to quit smoking, but he had refused to agree to stop seeing his friends.

_And now the brat was late home!_ Nanjiro growled. What do you do when your son was an out-of-control tensai… this wasn't something that required seeing a Shrink or anything like that, and Ryoma was definitely not a danger to society, he was just a… rebellious kid, that happened to be a brilliant mastermind, genius, prodigy-child when it came to tennis.

Time ticked on, and Nanjiro resorted to playing with Karupin to ease his boredom. When that failed he picked up one of his famed magazines and got… distracted… for a few hours. Nanjiro next looked up when he realised he was hungry; it was dark outside, and way past dinnertime. Nanjiro frowned, and went upstairs to check Ryoma's room. _Nope, the brat still wasn't home… unless…_ Nanjiro went downstairs, and outside, far enough away so that he could see the roof of the house. _No, the kid wasn't there either. Where the hell was he? _

As the hours ticked by, Nanjiro grew increasingly worried and annoyed at Ryoma. Rinko was once again away on a business trip, so Nanjiro had been left in charge. _Maybe the brat had decided to stay at a friend's house, and simply forgotten to tell him? Yeah that was probably it… Che… so like the troublesome brat._ With this last thought, Nanjiro finally fell into a restless sleep.

**EST**

"Didn't you hear me?! MY SON IS MISSING!" Nanjiro screamed into the phone, he listened for a moment. "I don't care what you have to do! JUST FIND HIM!"

It was the next night, and Ryoma had now been missing for over twenty-four hours. Nanjiro was at the end of his rope, he'd searched everywhere for his wayward son, but Ryoma was nowhere to be found. Nanjiro was running on the increasing fear that either something terrible had happened to Ryoma, or that his son had runaway, just like his brother Ryoga had done when Ryoma had been six.

"No! No, you listen! ... I AM CALM! You'd better do everything you can, or so help me I will… fine! ...Yes I know this is New York! ...Yes, I think I understand completely!" Nanjiro slammed the phone down, and knotted his hands in his hair.

"Ryoma, where the hell are you?" he whispered miserably. Sinking down a wall to the floor, he sat there as the minutes slowly dragged by. His eyes were closed as if he could block everything out if he just refused to acknowledge it.

Then his extra sensitive hearing caught a whispering voice from out the front of the house.

"Are you sure this is it?"

"Yes, I'm sure," another voice answered. "Come on, hurry – careful there!"

There was a smashing sound as one of Rinko's flower-pots broke.

"Oops!" A third voice said.

"Can't you be more careful?" A girl whispered furiously. "Want to wake the whole fucking neighborhood?"

"Stop arguing, you two! Someone ring the doorbell. I hope his father is home…"

Nanjiro moved to the door faster then lightning and wrenched it open. What met him was the strangest group of bedraggled kids he'd ever seen. The blonde boy about to press the doorbell was shirtless; his bare front was splattered in blood. They were all dripping in sweat and looked dead on their feet. But Nanjiro barely noticed any of this. He only saw his son, unconscious and as pale as snow, being supported by the other six children.

"R-Ryoma!" Nanjiro gasped in horror. Ryoma was also missing his shirt, but his entire torso was covered in blood, a makeshift bandage made out of a shirt had been wrapped around his right shoulder. Nanjiro swallowed and tried to keep calm, he couldn't help if he flew into panic now.

"Bring him in!" he ordered rigidly, holding the door open for the group of kids.

They walked in somberly, and Nanjiro shut the door behind them. Moving quickly in front of them, he directed them towards a side room where they placed Ryoma on a couch. Judging by their appearance, and by their worried expressions, these were Ryoma's allusive friends. A monstrous black boy held Ryoma's hat in his hand.

"What the fuck happened to him?" Nanjiro couldn't take his eyes off the blood on Ryoma's chest – _he looked so small, so pale…_

There was a beat of silence, and then the blonde boy looked directly at Nanjiro, his blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

"He… Buchou… He was shot."

**EST**

"Mr. Echizen?" The nurse called from the doorway. Nanjiro's head jerked up, and he leapt up from the hospital waiting room chair.

"That's me," he said, "is Ryoma okay?"

The nurse smiled at him in reassuring way. "Don't worry, Mr. Echizen, your son will be fine. He lost a lot of blood, but luckily he's blood-type 'O' of which we have great supply. The bullet missed any main muscles or critical arteries, organs, or ligaments, which is really very lucky considering it was a torso wound. He does have a fracture in the right-hand side of his clavicle bone – his collar-bone – but it will heal with virtually no problems. Your son will be left with an impressive scar, but he will be fine."

Nanjiro slumped in relief, Ryoma would be fine, and then a thought occurred to him. "Ryoma is still able to play tennis, isn't he?"

The nurse looked mildly surprised. "Oh yes, he'll be able to play just fine, but not for a few months at least. Wouldn't want to risk making the injury worse, he might occasionally get the odd twinge of pain, but it would basically be normal."

Nanjiro sighed, _thank goodness!_ It felt like he had called the ambulance a life-time ago, it was a whole twelve hours later now. The police had come and gone, asking their questions about the incident. Nanjiro had replied to most of them that he didn't know – which was complete honesty. The group of kids that had carried Ryoma in had disappeared while Nanjiro had called the ambulance. Apart from the bloodied Ryoma, and broken flower-pot, it was as if they had never been there at all.

"You can go in and see him now, if you want, he's awake," the nurse interrupted his thoughts.

Nanjiro blinked in shock. "He is? Thank you!" he moved away swiftly towards Ryoma's room.

"No problem!" The nurse called after him. Nanjiro reached the hospital door, and hesitated. Psyching himself up, he quietly opened the door and peered in. Ryoma lay on the white bed, his shoulder wrapped professionally now. His son turned his head as the door opened. Ryoma slowly blinked, and silence stretched between the two.

"Hey, old man," Ryoma eventually said, his voice was a little slow from the morphine.

"Hey, brat," Nanjiro half-smiled, shutting the door behind him. He walked over to sit in the visitor chair, and then sat staring at his son.

Ryoma sighed, and looked remorseful. "Guess I messed up big-time, huh?" he said, downcast.

Nanjiro gazed levelly back. "I don't know Ryoma," he said truthfully, "you tell me."

**EST**

Several hours later Nanjiro exited the room again, but not before Ryoma had told Nanjiro the truth.

The _whole_ story.

From start to finish.

_It was incredible. Inconceivable! It was amazing, absolutely astounding! To think that those kids…_ Nanjiro was utterly speechless. The ex-pro shook his head, _and it was bloody dangerous!_ _Really what were they thinking?! Did they have a death wish?_ But once he got past the initial horror of the idea, deep down Nanjiro was impressed and extremely proud of his son – _to think that they had done that! _Not that he ever wanted Ryoma to play EST again. Ever.

_Ryoma looked down at the bed, he bunched the blanket cover in his hands and twisted it nervously, looking – quite unintentionally – adorable._

_Ryoma bit his lip anxiously, then started, "I don't suppose… you've ever heard of EST have you?"_

_Nanjiro scowled. "What's that? Some new drug you kids are into?"_

_Ryoma smiled somewhat sadly. "Not the kind you're thinking of."_

After he had heard the whole story, Nanjiro firmly decided that Ryoma needed a change. As soon as his shoulder was better, Ryoma would start entering in the American tennis tournaments. He could still see his friends occasionally, but he wouldn't be able to play anything for several months. He'd been assured by Ryoma that the Extreme Streets Tennis tournament was officially over now, and that Ryoma's team had won. _A group of eleven year olds!_ But then, regarding Ryoma's evolved skill during their father-son matches, Nanjiro guessed that it was no surprise.

"_Because, baka oyaji," Ryoma smirked from the hospital bed, "we are a team of Super-rookies."_

"_And you're their Buchou," Nanjiro replied. _

Nanjiro smiled as he remembered that. Then the smile faded to be replaced with grim determination as he recalled Ryoma's final comment before he'd left.

"_Oyaji," Ryoma's voice stopped him as Nanjiro reached for the door handle._

"_Hai?" he looked back at his son, eyebrows raised._

"_When I get better…" Ryoma was once again focused on the white hospital sheets. "I need you to help me train."_

"_Train?" he asked warily._

"_Hai. One day, I'll have to face Felix again." Ryoma met his eyes and Nanjiro saw a flash of green fly through the burning golden colour. "And when that day comes, I will defeat him!" _

**EST**

**A/N**

**Do you want to know what happened? ****It's a SE-CR-ET! :D**

**Next chapter will be up next Friday: Echizen starts Seigaku!**

**Arigato guzaimasu!**

– _**Mel XX**_


	3. Echizen starts Seigaku

Extreme Streets Tennis

**Gaday!**

**Heheh, you know how I said this would be up on Friday…? Turns out I'm a liar H_H please don't kill me?**

**Cheers! **

**Beware!! This chapter is looooooong… **

**I don't own P.o.T. or anything else you recognise. This is fanfiction, and no copyright is intended. Language warning! This story is rated 'M', there are a lot of themes in this story, if they offend you… I'll set Fuji on you. With a glass of Inui juice… **

**And… SPOILERS WARNING! If you haven't seen or read the OVAs then you probably won't understand some of this. **

**Also I reserve the right of creativity! Which means that while a few things in this story might seem a little… impossible at times… imagination makes it possible. :D**

**Here's the next chapter. **

**EST**

Ryoma blinked and pulled himself out of the thoughts of his life, of how everything had started, and how it had all ended by bringing him here. Now he was twelve and a half years old, and it was once again time for the school year to start – however – this year was different.

Ryoma gazed at the white mediocre buildings from the school gate, contemplating whether or not to go in. They had moved here for Rinko, her job had been transferred to Tokyo-Japan, and a friend of Nanjiro's had offered the use of his temple grounds. This was the result. Seigaku. Seishun Academy to be more precise, but Seigaku was its general name, and apparently a school renowned for its tennis ability.

Ryoma scowled at it. The grounds were almost empty as most students were already inside at their lockers, only a few were still dawdling about on the sparse grass. Several grey clouds hung resignedly above the school; mimicking Ryoma's mood. It had been three days since they'd moved to Japan, the longest period of time Ryoma had gone without his friends in over two years. Nanjiro kept going on about how 'a change would be good for him' how much fun he would have at his new school, all the new people to challenge in tennis, all the hot young Japanese chicks to check out, and maybe then Ryoma would finally stop moping.

Moping? _Moping?! That baka fool_, Ryoma jaw clenched, before he wrenched his thoughts away. His golden eyes focused back on the school in front of him – his striking features completely blank, emotionless and cold – apart from his eyes, which burned with an intense fierceness. People usually took his extreme gaze as insolence or impudence… which it was a lot of the time_… _Ryoma knew he unnerved people – with his cold exterior but burning eyes – his cousin had once commented that it was because they looked so much older then his small twelve-year-old body.

_I am not that small!_ …Ryoma's size was a bit of a touchy subject with him…

To hide his eyes he always wore his favorite white cap – unfortunately Seigaku forced students to wear a uniform, and as such – he was unable to wear his hat apart from when he was playing tennis. Without it Ryoma knew he stuck out of the crowd easily. His fit, lithe body – no matter how small – was undeniably hot. At his old school he'd nearly always had a trail of giggling, hyper, cutesy – and annoying as hell – fangirls, as well as loud hanger-ons always trying to be his friend because he was popular, despite all his efforts to be anti-social. Ryoma's problem was that he practically oozed coolness, with his graceful movements, attractive face, a body that looked good in anything, and his great skill at sports – it all drew people in like a magnet.

The only people he really knew for sure as his friends were his old team. Right now he missed them more then ever. It was probably just nostalgia, and the fact that he had left on bad terms…

"_I'm moving… back to Japan."_

Kintarou had cried and had thrown himself on Ryoma, begging him not to leave. Katara had pretended that it was no big deal – but Ryoma had seen the hurt in her eyes. Moon had stopped smiling, and had opened his eyes, revealing the depths of sadness within them...

"_We'll miss you, Samurai."_

Ryoma had to swallow just thinking about it. And then… there was Kevin…

"_So you__'re just going to leave?! After everything…! You're moving away?!" Kevin's eyes flashed furiously. "Just like that?! You're going to throw away everything?!"_

_Ryoma tried to grab his arm to calm him down. "Kev… I'm sor–"_

"_Don't you fucking apologize!" the blonde boy screamed back at him, jerking away. "Don't you – ARRH! Fuck you, Echizen! I hate you!"_

Ryoma closed his eyes at the memory. _That bastard_… he thought a little sadly without any real anger or resentment. None of his friends had contacted him since he had left – not that they had any real way of doing it due to the false names. Only Kevin could reach him, but somehow Ryoma doubted that he would do that anytime soon. Anger flared inside him again.

_Kevin's suppose to be my bestfriend! He didn't even come to see me off at the airport!_ Ryoma glared at the pavement. _Well screw him! After everything we've been through, he just throws our friendship away because I moved to a different country! That bastard! That… that… baka… _Thinking about Kevin always sent Ryoma reeling on an emotional rollercoaster – because if the truth be told, he knew he still missed his bestfriend…

_But I'm not moping! Stupid old man!_

A bell rang in the school, snapping Ryoma out of memory-lane. Resigning himself to his fate, he shouldered his tennis racket bag more firmly, threw his hands into his pockets and sauntered forward.

Ryoma entered the main doors and was greeted with a corridor of students. He forced his body to remain relaxed while his senses raved at the unfamiliar environment, people, and voices. His ears caught every comment, every movement, his nose was assaulted with hundreds of different smells of food, perfume, cleaning chemicals, body odours – and his eyes took in every action, though he outwardly kept them focused ahead. He was on high alert – his mind instinctively assembling a 3-D map of the surroundings.

The boy strolled forward with hands still causally thrown in his pockets, and his bags hanging off his left shoulder, staring stoically ahead. He felt the crowd moving around him, parting in front of him, and he heard the whispers starting behind him. He heard the sudden giggling of girls, heard the boy's questioning remarks, felt their eyes raking him up and down appreciatively. It was the same wherever he went, he was used to it – his attentive senses made it hard for him to ignore – but still, that didn't stop him from trying.

Ryoma soon found his way blocked by a group of first years who were all crowding around someone.

"…I know because I'm Horio with two years of tennis experience!" The guy in the middle was bragging loudly. The other first years 'Oohed' and 'Ahhed' in amazement – some even applauded. It didn't seem like they were moving anytime soon, so Ryoma inwardly grumbled and walked around the back of the group next to the lockers lining the right-hand side walls.

Not far down from the first years were a few older students congregating outside a classroom doorway on the opposite side of the corridor. Ryoma watched them discretely out of the corner of his eye as he passed by. There was a chirpy red-head guy hanging off the shoulders of a taller boy with a hair-cut that made him look like an egghead – they were laughing together. Next to them was a sensitive-looking guy who was rubbing the back of his head and blushing furiously at a girl who was talking to him. Looming behind him was a creepy looking guy, scribbling in a notebook as his glasses gleamed sinisterly. And next to them was –

"– bloody mamushi!" shouted a spiky-haired second year.

"Fssshhhh! You trying to pick a fight Momoshiri?!" another scarier looking second year yelled back, they grabbed each other by their collars.

"It's Momoshi-_ro_ you bastard!"

"You're the bastard!" The scarier looking second year shoved the spiky-haired boy backwards – and Ryoma suddenly found himself about to be crushed between a hulking load of second year muscle, and the lockers next to him. Luckily his reaction skills were much better then the average person…

With a tight grip on his bags, Ryoma whipped his right hand out of his pocket, reflexively bending his knees as he did so – with milliseconds to spare – he jumped. Catching the top off the locker with his right hand he used it as a lever to lift his body high into the air – folding his legs out to the side. The spiky-haired boy simultaneously crashed hard into the locker doors beneath Ryoma, as the golden-eyed boy literally leapt over him. With the grace and poise of a professional, Ryoma landed on the other side, and stood up straight again.

The chatter around him faded out… and then rose louder then ever with the student's exclamations.

"Sugoi…! Nya, Oishi did you see that?!" the red-head gaped; his blue eyes were drinking in Ryoma.

His friend looked a little pale, and started forward anxiously. "Oh my, are you okay? We're so sorry! Are you alright?"

"Fssshhhh, baka."

"Mamushi! That was your fault!" the spiky-haired boy stood up in anger, rubbing his elbow where it had hit the lockers. Then he turned to Ryoma sheepishly, "Gomen, I'm very sorry about that. But that jump…! What a great reaction time for a shortie like you!"

Ryoma's eyebrow twitched; _…shortie…?_ He glared at the group, letting them take the full brunt of his blazing golden gaze – they all looked rather taken aback. _Really, what a bunch of bakas._

"Che," he dismissed them, stuck his hands back in his pockets, and walked away nonchalantly.

"What's with him?" he heard one of the senpais say from behind him.

"I dunno… Ne! Is that a tennis racket he's carrying?"

"Aa, I wonder who he is…"

**EST**

Ryoma stood in Seigaku's office waiting with unconcealed boredom as his class schedule was handed to him – along with a whole lot of school pleasantries and 'helpful' tips – that Ryoma could've happily gone his whole life without knowing. Plus the office lady had assigned him a tour-guide from the school's 'buddy system', to help him settle in on his first day.

"Ohayou! Douzo yoroshiku! My name is Osakada Tomoka! But please call me Tomo-chan, okay Echizen Ryoma-sama?!" a girl with short pig-tails enthusiastically greeted him.

Ryoma sweat-dropped and tried to inconspicuously inch away. "…Aa…"

"Great-o! Ryoma-sama, you play tennis! Sugoi! You're so cool!" Tomoka screamed when she saw his tennis bag, and she clasped her hands to her chest, her eyes went big and starry. Ryoma's eardrums throbbed from her loud high-pitched voice. That was the downside to having extra-sensitive hearing, the screaming fans that ended almost every sentence with an exclamation mark, always leaving Ryoma with a headache.

For the next hour or so Ryoma was reluctantly dragged around the school by this loud fangirl through what seemed an eternity of pointless greetings, inductions, and tours of the school – all of which went over Ryoma's head. His indifferent and cold attitude just seemed to fuel this girl even more. He swore she hadn't shut-up nor – _breathed_ – since they had left the office.

"This is the English classroom! You'll be in here with me but I hope you're better at English then me! I don't really understand what the teacher is talking about most of the time – actually that's the same in a lot of my classes! Oh! Here's the Math classroom, it used to be the art room but then we got a new room…" Ryoma closed his eyes as the girl nattered away like an incessant whine in Ryoma's ear… he tried to tune her out. _Geez, everything had happened so fast… _

Once the Extreme Street Tennis championship had ended, Ryoma had to take it easy for several months, Felix had disappeared, and everyone else kind of moved on, taking their share of the prize money. They had still kept in contact though, meeting up every now and again on the weekend and after school. Moon went on to enter a famous music school, and soon became a celebrated student there with his violin. Sam had set up this apartment stuffed full with the latest technology and whole cases of books, and he would hole up there for days on end inventing… well in truth Ryoma didn't know what he was making, but judging by the sounds that came from behind the closed door, it was something big…

Kintarou and Katara hired a full-time guardian so they could get out of orphanage, then they bought a mansion and estate by combining their money with Kevin's, and the three of them moved in. Kevin had gotten sick and tired of his father, and joined the twins the first chance he'd got. Duke had taken an extended holiday to Fiji, and they occasionally received post-cards from him and pictures of him lazing on sunny beaches, or immersed in a giant Jacuzzi.

Nanjiro had been true to his word, and as soon as Ryoma's shoulder had healed, he'd been entered in American tennis tournaments. These were so easy it was almost painful… Ryoma hadn't raised his Level above Three the entire time, even when facing sixteen year olds. And people had been amazed at his talent_… Hehe, if only they knew. _

"…of course I always said so but no one believed me, typical right?" Tomoka was still talking happily in the one-sided conversation as they walked down the corridor. "Just through there are the boys toilets, and upstairs are the girl's toilets – but you don't really need to know that…" Ryoma wished he could just get away and find somewhere peaceful and quiet to curl up and sleep – preferably in the sun… "Oh! Also chemistry is upstairs! Do you do chemistry Ryoma-sama? I do, but the work is _really_ hard! Oh! And the roof is upstairs too!"

"You don't say…" Ryoma muttered, rolling his eyes. The single place she hadn't shown him yet was the tennis courts; the only thing Ryoma was interested in here at Seigaku. A bell rang somewhere in the school; it was lunch-time, and the level of noise rose suddenly in the surrounding classrooms. A door opened near Ryoma and Tomoka and students streamed out.

"Ne! Sakuno-chan, come here!" Tomoka darted forward suddenly, grabbing the shoulder of one the girls leaving the classroom and yanking her out of the stream. "Ryoma-sama, this is my friend Ryuzaki Sakuno-chan, a first year too! Sakuno this is Echizen Ryoma-sama, he's new from America!" then Tomoka's eyes narrowed slyly and she added in a whisper, "isn't he sooo _kawaii_?" The Ryuzaki girl blushed bright red, and started stuttering something completely unintelligible.

Ryoma simply stood in the corridor with his hands in his pockets as the noisy throng of students swarmed by him, uncaring that they had to go around him. _So far everyone I've met here has been annoying – or loud – or both._

"So Ryoma-sama!" Tomoka turned back to him with hearts shining in her eyes. "What do you think of Seigaku so far??? Pretty good, huh?!"

"Betsuni," Ryoma said, and he turned away to find a vending machine that sold Ponta.

**EST**

Lunch-time found Ryoma fast asleep on a secluded – _peaceful –_ part of Seishun Academy's roof near the tennis courts. The black-haired boy had come up to the roof to escape the crowds – then he'd simply jumped the barrier, and walked along the rail like a balancing beam with his hands still in his pockets and his tennis racket bag shouldered. When he'd sighted the fencing of the tennis courts, he'd settled down in a warm corner above the tennis changing rooms. The sun had finally come out, and Ryoma had then fallen asleep due to jet-lag, as well as the fact that he'd been training in Level Five for a while the day before. Unfortunately he forgot to wake up again, so he slept the last two hours of school away. Shame that.

Ryoma woke to the sound of tennis balls rebounding, and he stretched languidly like a cat, before sitting up. He slid around onto his stomach and pulled his body forward to the edge of the roof searching for the source of the sound. Several people were on the court in front of him, but Ryoma only recognised one of them, the loud-mouth Horio guy. Ryoma watched them curiously to judge their tennis ability – there were three freshmen on court trying to hit a can, as well as some senpai-tachi who were watching and sniggering as the first years missed. As the minutes dragged by Ryoma's lips set in grim line, and his eyes began burning with a golden fire. The senpai-tachi were obviously bullying the freshmen with a fixed game…

…and Ryoma couldn't stand bullies.

The Samurai junior reached over and pulled his red racket from his bag along with a few tennis balls, then he gracefully stood up and brushed his hair out of his eyes. Judging the distance with natural ease, Ryoma stood on the edge of the roof. With a lazy fluid serve he made the ball soar through the air, over the boundary fence of the tennis courts – to hit the can with pinpoint precision and pop the lid off – spilling rocks out from the inside.

Amazed silence fell on the court in front of him as the students looked at the fallen can in confusion.

"…Huh?"

"Sugoi… Ne! Senpai is cheating!!"

"Where'd that come from…?"

"What damn bastard is interfering with our game?!"

Ryoma smirked, and served again – this time with more force. The yellow ball spun up high into the air, and then zoomed down with a vengeance to squash the can, leaving a large tennis ball shaped dent. The student's jaws fell open, their eyes following the ball hypnotically as it bounced to a stop.

"…flattened…" one of them whispered.

"Only a… a Regular could do that!" the juniors choked. "Let's get out of here!" the bullies ran from the court, tripping over one another in their haste. Still gaping, Horio crouched and started poking the 'mysteriously' flattened can, while the other two watched on. Ryoma smirked, feeling at ease with the well-known grip of his racket as a gentle breeze shifted past, blowing through his hair and pulling the edge of his shirt. Suddenly a movement on the court boundary caught his attention, and he turned to look more closely.

It was the spiky-haired second year, Momoshiro, and he was gazing with wide eyes directly at Ryoma.

_Kuso… _Quickly Ryoma spun around and backed away from the edge of the roof. Scooping up his tennis bag, he shoved his racket back inside and zipped it up, moving swiftly across the roof of the changing rooms, and out of sight of the tennis courts. With a leaping jump off a wall, he grabbed a ledge and swung himself around to seize a drain-pipe. Scaling down hastily, he let himself drop the last metre or so, and then straightened with his hands in his pockets, trying to walk away as calmly as possible. _Damn… I suppose that guy's going to tell all his friends too,_ Ryoma inwardly sighed. _I wonder if this team is even worth the time…_

**EST**

"Echizen are you listening?" Horio demanded.

"…Betsuni," Ryoma said from the ground where he was tying his shoes. It was the next day, and they were at their first tennis morning training. Horio continued talking anyway, but Ryoma had already ingrained an automatic 'tune out' when it came to the loud-mouth kid. _Really, if this guy and that Tomoka girl should get ever get together – Australia wouldn't be far enough away to block out the noise…_

Ryoma finished tying his shoes and took up his red racket, walking to stand on one of the Seigaku courts. The early weak rays of sunlight struggled through the clouds, and it was still cool outside; he blinked sleepily as he picked at the tight strings, thinking wistfully of the soft, warm sheets of his bed. Morning training in tennis was a longtime source of anguish for Ryoma. It had been very hard to force himself to get up this morning, especially since he had been training late into the night yesterday. Since he no longer had his friends to play games with, he now had to work even harder to stay in shape.

"The Regulars!" Horio's loud voice yelled suddenly. Ryoma turned towards the court entrance to see an impressive group of students walk through… and a familiar group of students at that…

_Oh,__ well that's just peachy…_

They were the same baka kids from the day before but, by the way the rest of the Seigaku's tennis team were treating them, anyone would think they were famous. The scary looking boy with the bandana led the way, with the red head, the egg-head, the glasses guy, and the timid boy following. Momoshiro wasn't with them, instead there was –_ Moon_?!

Ryoma choked, _impossible! It couldn't be… _he looked closer. _Oh… it wasn't… meh._ But the guy was damn near close enough. This guy was actually older then Moon was. His hair was browner, longer and curl free. But the way he stood was the same, and they both had exactly the same creepy angelic smile_…_

Feeling oddly disconcerted Ryoma went back to picking at his racket. The Regulars didn't notice him. Practice began at last, the freshmen were told to start doing some stretches, while the Regulars began a warm up drill of hitting balls back into the basket. After a few minutes Ryoma completed his stretching exercises; he stood up and arched his back against his racket, holding it in place with arms with his hands in his pockets, facing away from the courts.

Then one of the regulars called, "Whoops, that one's too high!"

Ryoma heard the ball whistling through the air, and sensed it was coming straight for him. He lazily took up the racket, lifting it high into the air. Easily catching the ball, he flipped it backwards forcefully, and heard it whiz back – straight into the basket of balls. All motion ceased on the court, and he felt the tennis team's stares. _Che… it's not that hard_.

"Whoa…"

"Did you see that?"

"He wasn't even looking!"

"Straight into the basket…"

"That's that new super-rookie, isn't it?"

"Amazing!"

Whispers of awe went around the court, they probably thought they were being quiet, but thanks to Ryoma's extra-sensitive hearing, he heard every word. _Super-rookie? They knew he was coming? _He wondered how… _Oh, right. That baka old man… _

He turned his head slightly to look at the Regulars out of the corner of his eye. A glint of amused excitement and recognition showed on the red head's face.

"Ne, Oishi, it's that kid from yesterday!"

'Oishi' (the egg-head boy) smiled back. "Hmm."

"What kid from yesterday?" the Moon-look-a-like asked, and the red head happily informed him of Ryoma's 'sugoi' jumping feat, causing the smiling boy to turn to Ryoma in… kind of creepy interest. Ryoma suppressed a shiver.

"Why are you all standing around?" a sharp voice rebounded across the courts, and the players snapped to attention, turning towards Ryoma.

"Buchou!"

Ryoma's head shot up,_ wha–?_ Then he realised the team wasn't looking at him, but behind him. Ryoma turned around again. A striking man who looked about twenty years old, wearing glasses and a serious expression, stood at the court entrance. Ryoma blinked and cocked his head slightly to the side. The man was wearing a student's uniform… and the team had called him 'buchou.' _Oh-kay then. _

He continued examining the _boy_ before him. So this guy was going to be his new captain? _Huh…_ Ryoma raised his head, and with some surprise, found the stern gaze directed at him. A weird tingle at the back of his mind sprung up from the shock, but Ryoma quickly quashed it, and boldly began an impromptu staring match with the captain. Maybe he was being impertinent, but one thing Ryoma had learned in America was that people had to earn their respect; he wasn't about to dish out real respect to just anyone.

"Everyone start warming up! When finished; second and third years are on the courts! First years; be ready to pick up balls! That's it for today!" Tezuka ordered.

"H-Hai!" the team scurried to obey. Ryoma turned away from the buchou, and tugged his hat down over his face. _Great. I got up early to pick up balls… being a first year is such a pain. _

The trio of freshmen from the day before began puffing around the outside of the courts – doing laps as part of their warm up. An idea came to him as he watched them, and Ryoma brightened up. Couldn't he just do laps? He only had to go ball-chasing when he was finished warming up, but Tezuka hadn't said how long the 'warm up' session was… _Heeh, I love loopholes, Mada Mada Dane! _Ryoma put his racket back in its bag, and slipped into his usual graceful loping run. The simple activity lulled his thoughts, and soon he had completely zoned out. __

It wasn't until some time later on, when he became aware that he was being watched by some of his senpais. _Wait a moment…_ how many laps had he done? _Che, it didn't matter anyway. _Ryoma turned on his heel and walked back to the courts.

**EST**

Fuji smiled as Tezuka's gaze once again deviated from the courts to the freshman running laps around it. Other than the obvious fact of Echizen now being the only team member still 'warming up', something about the first year had attracted the captain's interest – a feat not easily done – but very amusing to watch. Fuji would have expected Tezuka to call the boy back in by now, reprimand him, and set him chasing balls with the other freshmen. However, it almost seemed that Tezuka was _reluctant_ to call on Echizen's blatant disregard of his buchou's orders… why if Fuji didn't know any better he would say Tezuka was fighting a battle of wills…

"A curious first year, ne Tezuka?"

"Perhaps," Tezuka replied curtly, turning his attention back to the courts.

Fuji smiled. "No doubt, he's the one Ryuzaki-sensei was talking about."

"Hn." Ryuzaki had seemed quite excited one evening a few days before, a pleased smile had been pasted on her face and a wicked scheming gleam present in her eye as she debriefed the Regulars. Apparently there was a new student entering Seigaku who was the son of a previous member – and by their coach's reaction – no ordinary member at that.

"Echizen is an unanticipated variable," Inui murmured from several steps away as he scribbled in his infamous notebook. "This requires extensive research with resources not currently available to me."

Fuji smiled. "Saa… in other words Inui; you want to Google his name and see what pops up."

Inui paused in his writing, obviously thrown for a moment. "A-Aa," he muttered and snapped his notebook shut.

Fuji's smile widened. "I think that this year is going to be very different," he mused.

"…"

Fuji slid the stoic buchou a sly glance. "Ne, Tezuka?"

"Don't let your guard down." And Fuji inwardly huffed; _of course, you'd say that, I shouldn't have hoped for anything else. _

"Che," someone snorted from behind them. The two senpai turned around to see Echizen eyeing them from under the white brim of his cap. They hadn't heard him approaching, but he was standing just a few feet behind them; a cocky smirk playing on his lips, and his red racket shouldered nonchalantly – but his eyes drew them in. The first year's eyes burned with peculiar flame, challenging them – _daring_ – them, and as Fuji met it, somewhere deep inside him a spark ignited in a rush of excitement and restlessness.

"NE! Echizen, are you helping with ball duty, or not?!" Horio yelled, not noticing the senpai-tachi.

Echizen grimaced ever so slightly. "Hai," he said despondently and moved off towards his classmates.

Focused blue eyes watched him go. _Saa… a curious first year indeed… _

**EST**

"_This is__ all the necessary equipment available to you, I've had Sam make some improvements to the suits, and the rackets have been made specially," Felix explained calmly. The younger kids rummaged through the pile on the blue mat. Kintarou held up a black boot and was prodding the extra grip sole with his finger. Moon was fixing some sort of wrist technology to his arm. Duke was fiddling with an ear piece, Kevin was examining an averaged sized white ball, and Katara was holding a black and green suit up against herself. The suit looked a bit like black wet-suit material, but tighter and cooler with short sleeves and the leggings ending just below the knees._

_A green shoulder-and-chest-plate covered the top half of the torso, and there were green knee pads as well. Judging from the way Katara was holding it, the suit seemed pretty light and flexible. Ryoma himself had picked up a green and black decorated racket – it was slightly larger and longer then his own. __Felix continued smoothly, "You are all required to wear the suits for safety's sake, and you will all learn to communicate and work together using the ear pieces. Moon, that hand-grappler has a grip pad on the palm, but as you can see, the fingers are left open to allow free motion. Now point it at the roof." Moon did as he was bid; the rest of the group looked on curiously. "Press the button at the base."_

_Moon pressed it, and a thick strong black rope shot out, attaching itself to the roof. There was a group gasp of wonder. Felix gazed at them levelly, his cold eyes piercing their own. "You will watch me swing across the room using two hand-grapplers, then once in the third pinnacle of Level Five, you will do it yourself," it was not a request. "The white ball that Kevin is holding is the standard Extreme Streets Tennis ball, it has greater 'bounce' then normal balls, but is heavier then say, a child's bouncy-ball toy, to give it enough weight to play with. The rackets are basically the standard for the ultimate game, but slightly modified to suit the individual. While they are different from what you are used to, don't worry, as you'll soon adapt. Now everyone suit up," Felix ordered and walked away, taking a few sips from a bottle in his hand. _

_Moon turned to Ryoma and smiled, "Ne, buchou doesn't this sound like fun?" _

_Ryoma turned to the boy surprised, _Moon was speaking Japanese? _Then his eyes widened as he was met not with his friend – but with that senpai from the courts today – who Ryoma found out was called Fuji-senpai… The third year's smile faded and he opened his eyes, transfixing Ryoma with a damning gaze. Slowly, before his very eyes the third year seemed to grow taller and his gaze went cold as ice. Then suddenly he wasn't Fuji anymore, or even Moon – it was Felix. His wild ice blue eyes consumed Ryoma as he towered over him, Felix's black hair coming loose from its tie and crawling like shadowy tentacles over the fifteen year old's face as Felix laughed and laughed– _

"AHH!" Ryoma shot up straight in bed, sweat was running off his face. Karupin gave a startled meow and then leapt off the bed; highly disgruntled. The twelve year old breathed deeply_… oh… it was just a dream… strange._ Ryoma lay back down, trying to calm his crazily beating heart. It was a while before he was able to fall asleep again. 

**EST**

The next day for Ryoma past in a flash, until he found that someone had stolen his tennis rackets…

**EST**

"So are you going to play? Mr. 'Oh-I'm-the-best-player'?" Arai's taunting voice resounded across the courts. The four Regulars on court stopped their practice and turned to watch curiously. Their buchou and vice-captain Oishi were currently absent; they were having a meeting with Ryuzaki-sensai in organising the Intraschool Rankings Tournament. Momoshiro was still away due to his twisted ankle.

"Hey, it seems that Arai is picking on Echizen," Inui commented, his brow creased.

Eiji scoffed scornfully at the troublesome junior. "Just listen to the way he talks!"

"What should we do, stop him?" Inui asked. Arai and two other second years had menacingly surrounded Echizen and the some other first years. Echizen was holding a crappy old racket, looking annoyed.

"The others will come back soon, and Tezuka's not going to like this," Eiji said anxiously, bouncing from one foot to the other as they all looked at the commotion.

"Aa…" Fuji agreed absently, his eyes once again fixed on the unordinary freshman.

"For a first year, that racket is just right for you. If you get what I'm saying, stop acting cocky! Saa... If you comply, maybe those three precious rackets of yours will reappear… Hahaha!" Arai laughed with his cronies.

"H-hey Echizen! Where are you going?!" Horio flustered. Echizen was walking onto a tennis court.

"Geez, there are some weaklings who can only think up dirty methods to play," the boy said.

"What…? Are you accusing me of hiding your rackets?" Arai demanded; the trio of freshmen sweat-dropped in fear. The Regulars watched with wary serious faces as the spectacle unfolded before them.

"Well," Echizen walked to the net, and scuffed the ground with his foot as if testing the grip of the court. "If the shoe fits…" he said darkly in English. Silence reigned on the courts, broken by Fuji, who started chuckling – he being the only one who understood the language well enough. Echizen caught Fuji's eye and smirked, then tugged his white hat down.

"What did he say?" Inui asked, his glasses flashed sinisterly as he pulled out his notebook.

Fuji looked at his fellow classmates, smiling mysteriously. "I say we see how this turns out."

"I knew you'd say something like that!" Eiji pouted.

"That idiot!" Horio exclaimed loudly to the other freshmen. "There's no way he can play with that racket! He's going to lose big time!"

Arai grinned at Echizen. "Alight then… I'll shut that big mouth of yours for good!" The second year joined Echizen on court, scooping up a few balls as he went. The Regulars looked on; Eiji fiddled with his racket anxiously, Kaidoh was pretending to be uninterested, and Inui was wearing an expression that clearly said 'Good time to collect data…' while Fuji smiled happily.

The game began. Arai narrowed his eyes in concentration, and served the ball with all his strength. Echizen reacted smoothly with a practiced motion, but the racket made a weird dead sound as it connected, and the ball was flung into the net.

Arai smirked triumphantly. "Ne, what's wrong?" he taunted.

"It's impossible with that racket," Horio moaned hopelessly, his loud voice easy to hear from where the Regulars were standing. Echizen picked at a string on the crappy old racket, his hat hid his expression.

"Where are those big words you used a while ago?" Arai grinned evilly. "Let's finish this to the end!" He served once again, throwing even more power into the shot. Responding fluidly, Echizen moved with light soundless steps, his shirt rippling around him revealing taut white muscles beneath. He countered with a forehand, the racket made that dead noise, and the ball flew way out. The other second years laughed in contempt. Arai picked up another ball – his face was smug.

"Echizen-kun can't control the ball!" a freshman said.

"What's with that weird impact sound!" said another.

Inui adjusted his glasses. "Even if he wants to return it, it will not work that well."

"Usu," Fuji sighed, "with those kinds of strings, he won't be able to add a topspin to the ball." But somehow he sensed that it wasn't over yet…

"Heeeh," they turned their eyes back to Echizen. The boy tapped the racket, making the weird sound. "Now I get it..." then Arai served a third time. Echizen reacted differently. His movements were still sinuous, but his footing had shifted, and he twisted his body. Fuji could practically see the power coiling in him as the first year rotated, and then the racket connected with the ball, still making that dead sound. The ball was returned with natural ease, cracking past his opponent.

"Euk…!"Arai squawked in shock.

"He hit it?!" the surprised freshman trio exclaimed.

Eiji said knowingly, "Nya, he added a spin to the ball by turning his whole body."

"Impressive," Fuji acknowledged.

"Not really," Echizen replied from the court. The Regulars eyes went wide. "It was so slow…"

"Eh? Don't tell me he could hear us this whole time?" Eiji whispered in a mixture of alarm and amazement.

Echizen gave an annoyed sigh through his teeth as he examine the crappy racket, "Stupid strings, maybe I just won't use them…"

Everyone watching started and a collective, "Ehhh?" rose from the courts.

"Don't get cocky just because you were able to make it once…!" Arai yelled, smacking the ball in anger and serving. Echizen's form changed again, his golden cat-like eyes were focused completely on the spinning ball, his knees bent as he swung his racket – _side on?!_ The ball hit the rim of the racket; and smashed between Arai's legs at breakneck speed, ending quivering in the fence. The tennis club gaped in awe, and exclamations flew back and forth.

"D-did you see that?!"

"That first year's amazing!"

"No way!"

"He used the _rim?!_"

"Echizen has full control of that racket! Just like yesterday when he made that smash to the basket!" Horio beamed proudly.

"That guy's on fire!" Eiji said next to Fuji, Inui was scribbling away in his notebook.

Fuji watched with clear blue eyes, and mused quietly, "He's not your average player."

"T-that was a lucky shot!" Arai yelled furiously waving his racket about to emphasize his point.

Echizen raised an eyebrow. "Was it? Alright, I'll do it slower this time, so you can watch properly," a wicked grin slid across his face, "and I'll aim a little higher too." Arai paled as he remembered how the ball had gone between his legs and his grip tightened on his racket. Fuji chuckled.

Eiji shot his friend a look. "Figures you would find that funny. Bloody sadist…" he mumbled.

"I can't bear this anymore," Kaidoh suddenly burst out. "He's disgracing us second years. I'm going to the rest-room." He turned abruptly on his heel and stalked away. Fuji, who hadn't taken his eyes off Echizen, saw the first year was watching the Regular leave.

"Ne, Kaidoh…" Fuji called apprehensively, just as Arai served again. This time Echizen hit it back using the body twist shot, Arai lunged and managed to just catch it, the ball lobbed high. Echizen took two graceful steps towards the net and jumped. "Here it comes," the first year warned evenly. The crappy racket flashed through the air, smashing the ball against the rim – the ball collided with the ground – and then bounced at a super-fast tangent to the side.

Fuji's eyes opened wide.

"Kaidoh!" he barked in warning. Kaidoh turned around just in time, and the ball whizzed by him, narrowly missing his shoulder, and striking the boundary fence two courts away. The Regulars all fell silent, the tennis ball bounced in the background. Fuji looked back at Echizen, _surely that can't have been on purpose? A freshman couldn't have that good control? …Could he? _

"Gomen, senpai!" Echizen called, shouldering his racket and turning away. He tilted his head up arrogantly and closed his eyes. "Che, what a disgraceful shot," the Regulars exchanged sharp looks, "I guess it really annoys me when people take my stuff." Echizen opened his eyes and they blazed from under his hat at Arai. "So let's finish this to the end, senpai!"

Arai gulped nervously. "Aha-ha… let's just call it a break…"

"Yadda."

**EST**

And so Ryoma became a Regular.

It was a little harder then he thought it was going to be, it seemed his oyaji had been right in sending him to Seigaku. Most members of the tennis club were only Level Two, but the two Regulars he'd versed in the Intraschool Rankings Tournament were easily Level Three, with the potential to become at least Level Four. Everybody had skill Levels, but most weren't aware of what they were. Ryoma had hard-earned control over his, and was also good at judging other peoples. Of course, occasionally there came the few who were skilled enough to hide their true Levels – himself being one of those people.

– _Earlier that week –_

"Snake!"

Ryoma's opponent Kaidoh hit the snake again, forcing Ryoma to run to along the baseline. But to Ryoma's trained eye it was almost like the ball was moving in slow-motion, he ran effortlessly from line to line of the court, shifting his shoulders with poise, then returning the ball with interchanging right-handed forehands and backhands.

This endurance running had been going on for a while now; obviously Kaidoh was trying to tire him out by repeatedly using his 'Snake' technique. Ryoma was highly enjoying himself.

"Heeh, its hot today, isn't it senpai?" Ryoma conversed, as he fell into a rhythm, purposefully hitting countering shots that made it easy for Kaidoh to use his technique.

"He can move very fast," Ryoma heard the third year Inui comment from behind the fence.

"Aa, he is no doubt an incredible freshman, ne Tezuka?" Fuji asked the team buchou.

Tezuka gave curt nod to show that he'd heard. "Hn."

Ryoma allowed himself a small smirk, they probably had no idea he could hear them. Around the corner he caught the other freshmen's conversation.

"It seems that Ryoma-kun can return any ball!" Kachiro Kato said.

"At this rate, he may even stand a chance!" said his friend MizunoKatsuo.

Momoshiro came up behind them. "He's completely fallen into Kaidoh's trap."

"Trap?!"

"The snake is only Kaidoh's bait," Momoshiro said, "he really intends to make his opponent lose their stamina." The freshmen gasped in a mixture of horror and respect for their senior.

Ryoma focused on the ball, inadvertently resembling a curious cat playing with a toy – he returned it again, and half-smiled at his adversary.

"Ne, Kaidoh-senpai, you seem to be sweating a lot… maybe it'd be better if you take off that jacket?"

"Fssssshhhhh…" came the hissed reply. Ryoma smirked, and sliced the ball into the opposite corner, Kaidoh, lunged and missed. The second year was breathing heavily and sweat ran down his forehead.

"The one falling into the trap is Kaidoh," Inui said as he scribbled, his pen flying over the page.

"Kaidoh has lost to his own technique," Ryoma heard Tezuka say disapprovingly to the other third years.

_Hmm… that's actually a good idea…_ Ryoma mused, he was barely sweating at all and his breathing was even. He lowered his hat for a moment and concentrated, raising his Level to Three.

"Ne, this technique, the Snake," the boy called across the court as he raised his racket, "it's the 'Buggy Whip Shot' right? Here it comes!" Ryoma hit the 'Snake' back at Kaidoh, scoring another point as the second year stared in disbelief.

"Ehh?!" was the general reaction around the courts as members jaws fell open.

"It was the snake…" Kikumaru gasped.

Kawamura was bug-eyed. "How did he–?!"

"Heh… that was unexpected…" Fuji murmured.

"Hoi, hoi, this isn't funny," Momoshiro whined looking rather worried.

"Sugoi! That was amazing Ryoma-kun!" Kachiro cheered.

"He really is a tensai!" Mizuno cheered with him.

"Don't tell me that just by watching…" Oishi started his eyes still big.

"He has successfully learned the Snake," Fuji finished, flicking his attention to the buchou to judge his reaction. Tezuka was stoic as ever, but his eyes were contemplating something. Ryoma smiled.

"Game set, match won by Echizen. Six games to two."

– _Later that same day –_

The three freshmen were arguing on court about him, Ryoma was dragging a broom along the ground, sweeping up the leaves.

"Ne, I don't care what you say, but can we finish cleaning up?" He was bored.

"Ne, ne, Ryoma-kun, did you practice with a coach when you were younger?" Kachiro asked as he ran up to him.

"You sure are good. Have you ever lost a game?" Mizuno followed enthusiastically.

Ryoma mentally sighed, and continued pulling the broom along the ground. "Of course," he said bluntly without elaboration.

The first years looked taken back. "Don't joke around Ryoma-kun. Isn't becoming a professional player your goal?"

"Not really," he replied indifferently.

"How can that be?! What a waste! With your abilities, you can definitely become a pro!"

Ryoma kept walking without looking back. "Not interested."

"Eh?! Why?"

"Then why do you play tennis?" Horio demanded.

Ryoma sighed, his expression set. "There's a guy I want to defeat," he revealed flatly. Then said no more on the matter; his thoughts consumed by Felix.

– _The Next day –_

Ryoma was playing Inui and the score was one-love, Inui's way.

"I've seen all four games you've played including the one you played against Kaidoh. Your data has been collected. The probability that you'd hit a cross-shot just then was seventy-five percent." Ryoma turned his head towards the third year. Then he tugged on his hat and smirked.

"Heeeh, what a strange way of playing tennis. You can really tell where I'll hit the ball because you've thoroughly studied my play-style… right?" he turned his head to look at the Regular with one eye, a cocky smile still playing on his lips.

Inui pursed his lips slightly. "Usu," he affirmed getting into the receiving position.

Ryoma could see the ever-present first years crowding around the fence in the corner of his vision. His eyes grew a little when he saw Moon's look-a-like arriving to watch too. He shrugged, _alright, they want a show, so I'll give them one. _Turning his attention back to the game, he once again smirked at the waiting Inui.

"Hmm… so… what about if I do this…?" Ryoma spun the racket around by flicking his wrist, changing it from his right hand to his left hand. Then he continued talking leisurely into stunned silence. "My left hand is stronger then my right… Did you predict that?" Inui was frozen on the other side of the net. "Mada Mada Dane."

Ryoma served.

– _Seven minutes later –_

"Game set, match won by Echizen. Six games to one."

– _Present time –_

"Ne, brat! Are we training today or what?" Nanjiro asked, his racket shouldered. Ryoma looked up at him. "Hai," he said, and languidly got to his feet, picking up his red racket next to him. The two of them walked outside, and Ryoma set his racket down on the ground and began stretching. Nanjiro watched him pensively from the steps. Without looking at his oyaji Ryoma began doing some warm-up laps around the house and temple grounds. He easily fell into that familiar rhythm and lost himself in the motion.

…

"Alright brat! Stop already!" Nanjiro called from the steps, sounding irritated. Ryoma looked up in surprise, and walked over. Nanjiro eyed him. "Geez, you'd think after seventy laps you'd look a little tired…"

Ryoma shrugged indifferently and closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath and relaxing his shoulders. He felt the power build inside him, running with an electric buzz through his veins as he raised his Level, rapidly increasing it until he felt it break the barrier of Level Five, and he slipped into _Muga no Kyōchi. _He continued raising it until he broke into the third Pinnacle. His eyes snapped open, almost glowing in their illuminating green colour, and then he flipped off his hat – letting it fall to the ground – revealing his green hair.

"Let's start…" he said, picking up his racket and moving off.

Nanjiro followed meekly behind him. "It's a little freaky when you do that…" he mumbled.

When they had first moved here, Nanjiro had helped Ryoma set up a complex but moderately-sized adventure playground. Nanjiro stopped twenty meters away from it, pulling out a basket of tennis balls. Ryoma continued walking to the play-equipment, using a graceful rebound-jump off a pole to catch a three-meter-high ledge, and elegantly swung himself up. He stood on a small platform, waiting for his father to serve. Since they were using normal balls, and not actually playing a real game of Extreme Streets Tennis, Ryoma was using a normal tennis racket, and was dressed in causal clothes instead of the customary suit.

The adventure playground didn't go higher then eight meters so he wasn't in any real danger. Nevertheless it had taken some convincing to finally get his oyaji to agree to this. Nanjiro had been dead set against Ryoma ever playing or training for Extreme Streets again. But when Ryoma made it clear that wouldn't stop him – by sneaking out at night to train via the window – Nanjiro had reluctantly relented, deciding it was better that Ryoma trained where he could see him, thereby having close emergency help if he needed it. Not that he ever did.

"Are you ready brat?" Nanjiro called, waving his racket to get his attention.

Ryoma smirked, feeling the burning fire of Level Five within him, and that irresistible desire to play hard and have fun.

Speaking in English he growled, "Just serve, old man."

Nanjiro threw the ball up with practiced form and hit it with all his might towards the play-equipment. Ryoma's eyes focused on the lightly spinning blur traveling at high-speed, he felt the full force of the _Teni Muhō No Kiwami_ inferno whirl within him, taking over his senses completely – moving his body instinctively – his limbs appearing to distort and double at the motion, the air swirled around him, playing with his wild green hair as he leapt from the platform. He was flying, soaring on a feeling so intense that it completely consumed him – the pure joy of the game.

Ryoma leapt from bar to bar, somersaulting off a series of tires implanted in wood, flinging himself with wild abandon into the air – his racket connected with the ball – a millisecond later the same ball crashed back into the basket by Nanjiro's feet. Ryoma landed on a slanted bar, and his shoes slid down it, gracefully grinding the bar – arms flung out as if he were surfing. His ears picked up the whistling of an airborne ball – his father had served again, higher this time. Gliding to the end of the bar, Ryoma jumped off, easily grasping a nearby rope and using it as leverage – twisting his body like a cat. Rising about two meters higher, he reached the epitome of his jump, and whipped his racket around to collide squarely with the ball, once again returning it directly to the basket. Another was already on its way as Ryoma fell. Catching a bar with his legs, he flipped himself over – but now he needed both his hands. Throwing the racket up, he sent it spinning forward as he caught a rail, and swung under it – the racket flying over it. The ball had almost reached him, but he caught the racket with his left hand, smacking the ball back, making it invisible to any but those in the apex of the _Pinnacle of Perfection,_ or higher.

His oyaji continued to hit ball after ball at the adventure playground, and Ryoma continued to it them all back into the basket. Nanjiro remained immune to the reckless and dangerous, if not completely insane, stunts his son was pulling. After all…

…this was just everyday training.

**EST**

Ryoma lurched awake with a frightened gasp, his hands gripping the blanket in a white knuckle hold – they were trembling. Ryoma's breaths sounded abnormally loud in the still dark room, then he realised what had happened and he groaned, leaning forward to rub his eyes. Remnants of the dream flashed back to him like jumbled memories melding into one another. _Damn, I should be over this by now!_ but the nightmare was persistent and reoccurred every couple of nights. As he remembered the dream, the fragmented memories came faster…

…_utter darkness… then a blur of colours… his hand reaching out… a gunshot… pain… laughter… darkness… Kevin yelling… the ball spinning… cold so cold… Moon's sad eyes… angry shouting…a gunshot… pain… laughter… darkness…_

Ryoma shivered. Suddenly he was unable to stay in his bed, or even in his room. He threw off the bed covers, stumbling over to some discarded clothes and changing into them as quietly as possible. Pulling on some shoes, he carefully slid the window open and climbed out. This wasn't the first time this had happened. Ryoma often went for midnight walks when he couldn't sleep; he just made sure that he was back home in time for breakfast.

**EST**

"Ne, Tezuka?" Fuji asked the Seigaku buchou as the walked to school.

"Hmm?"

"What do think of the new freshman?" There was no need for him to elaborate on who he meant. "I'm sure you heard about Inui's match by now, how his data tennis was neutralised?"

"Hai."

"Which means, he played Kaidoh the entire time with his right-hand…"

"…"

Fuji sneaked a side look at the silent Tezuka. "Saa… he certainly is eye-catching, a bit of a wild-card, and a real enigma… don't you think?"

Finally, Tezuka replied, "I think that Echizen will be a prosperous addition for the team."

Fuji smiled pleasantly, _that's not the answer I wanted, and you know it Tezuka_, he tried again. "Surely you are curious though… what Echizen's full potential is…" _no reaction_, Fuji opened his blue eyes so to peer intensely at the Seigaku buchou. "You know… if the kid was actually playing seriously."

There was a slight hesitation between Tezuka's steps. Fuji replaced his mask in triumph, _so Tezuka had noticed it too – Echizen has been holding back in the matches so far._

"Don't let your guard down," Tezuka said, his eyes hidden by his glasses – which wouldn't make a difference, as they were probably expressionless anyway…

**EST**

Ryoma stood in the doorway of the Seigaku change-room; the Regulars were all in there changing for the morning practice. Up until this point Ryoma had always changed with the other freshman, but from now on he had a locker with the other Regulars, and was currently mentally debating whether or not to just turn around and close the door on this chaos.

"Ohayou! Hoi, hoi! Oishi! Nya!" A flying red-headed acrobat launched himself at his friend.

"Ah! Eiji – Ohayou!"

"Ne, Kawamura-senpai…" Momoshiro sidled slyly up to the boy. "I heard that _someone_ had a date last night! How'd it go?"

Kawamura flushed. "Eh, i-it wasn't really a date, as such, more a kind of… er…"

"Here's your racket Taka-kun,"

"I-it was – Oh, thanks Fuji – GREAT-O! I WAS ON FIRE! BURNINGGG!"

"Fuji-senpai!" Momoshiro yelped accusingly, and leapt backwards out of the way of the failing racket.

"Fufufu,"

"Baka idiot Momoshiri!" Kaidoh yelled, as Momoshiro had jumped backwards into him.

"It's Momoshi-_ro_ Viper!"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!"

"WHO ARE YOU ORDERING ABOUT?!"

"YOU, YOU IDIOT!"

"YOU'RE THE IDIOT!"

"Nya! It's the ochibi!"

_Aw crap._

GLOMP

"I'm Kikumaru Eiji a third year – and this is Oishi he's my doubles partner and he's also the vice-captain and my best friend – and this here is Momo a second year oh matte you already know him right – so this is Kaidoh oh you know him too – nya this is Kawamura he's also a third year senior and he has a split personality – and over here is Fuji he's really evil so you should stay away from him and – Nya! Ochibi-chan, what's wrong?!"

"Eiji! You're strangling him!"

"AH! Gomen! Gomen!" Ryoma broke free, collapsing against the door frame as he sucked a huge breath of life-saving air. "Gomen! Gomen! Oh no, now Ochibi's gonna hate me! NYA! Oishi!" Kikumaru wailed in his friend's arms.

"Echizen, are you okay?" Momoshiro placed a hand on his back.

"…'m fine…" Ryoma wheezed, feeling a little dazed. "… Really… Momoshiro-senpai,"

The second year sweat-dropped. "Eh, just Momo-senpai's fine, otherwise it's too long."

"If everyone is not on the court in two minutes, you'll all be running twenty laps!" Tezuka suddenly barked; he stood up fully dressed in the Seigaku tennis uniform looking quite imposing. Everyone froze for half-a-second, and then burst into a flurry of movement, with shirts, jackets, socks – even shoes – flying haphazardly around the room.

Ryoma carefully shed his outer school uniform jacket, and then began unbuttoning the white shirt. He knew he'd have to change in front of the other Regulars today, so he had on a tight black tank-top under his clothes. This was to hide the majority of the scars left by playing Extreme Streets, including the rather obvious one on his right shoulder. Ryoma's neck prickled as he slipped his tennis uniform shirt over his head – someone was watching him.

He turned his head slightly, meeting the masked expression of Fuji-senpai. Fuji smiled and turned away to pick up his racket, and joined Tezuka outside. Ryoma turned back to put his shoes on, but his thoughts remained with the third year. Why did he feel so strange knowing that Fuji had been watching him? _Perhaps the senpai suspected…? No. How could he?_ It was probably just his imagination anyway, a non-existing connection he felt because the boy looked like his friend…

_Moon stopped smiling, and opened his eyes, revealing the depths of sadness within them..._

Ryoma flipped his hat onto his head and pulled it down to cover his eyes. He went to join his senpai-tachi.

**EST**

The start of the Tokyo District Preliminaries was only ten days away, so Seigaku was training hard. Ryoma watched all his team-mates verse each other, getting to know them through their tennis, and as he did so he couldn't help but to compare them to his old friends. Kikumaru played in an acrobatic style, like Kintarou but less wild. He was cheerful and bubbly, always bouncing around in stark contrast to the other half of the 'Golden Pair' – as Ryoma had heard them called. Oishi played with great control, when he was on the baseline, practically no ball could pass him. He was a bit of a worry-wart though, and often fretted over the team like a mother hen. Only when he was around Kikumaru did he start to relax and smile more.

Kawamura was a hard-hitter like Duke, off-court he was a friendly guy – if a little shy, but a racket would give him instant 'burning' courage. Inui, while no longer a Regular, was still present at trainings as their 'manager' of sorts. He was little like Sam using probability and his knowledge to predict the game, but he was more into the data side of things. Plus he was really tall and Sam was tiny. Kaidoh liked to keep himself aloof from the others, scaring them off with fierce looks. His explosive personality reminded Ryoma sharply of Katara, especially when he had his frequent fights with Momo. Momo was a lot like Kevin in many ways, and Ryoma felt himself grow closer to the second year than to the other Regulars – probably because of this, and the fact that Ryoma really did miss Kevin heaps, and as much as he hated to admit it, he was feeling a little lonely.

The last two Regulars were different, and Ryoma was having a hard time deciphering what their true Levels were. Fuji played lightly like Moon, but he played to the wind, whilst Moon played to music. Fuji also had a sadistic edge that Moon lacked. Tezuka's presence commanded attention, just like Felix had. The buchou was cold and emotionless, but his voice was sharp and curt instead of a smooth and silky like Felix's. Over the next week Ryoma would often turn around to find one or both of these two Regulars watching him, they never approached him though, so Ryoma could only guess at what they were thinking.

**EST**

Their first match in the Tokyo District Preliminaries was against the school Gyokurin, Ryoma played doubles with Momo, and they won easily six games to two. Ryoma had really only ever played doubles with Kevin as his partner, back in America their friends called them the 'Super Pair' like Kikumaru and Oishi were called the 'Golden Pair' here. They often played against the doubles pair of Duke and Sam, and it was always a hard battle.

Both Sam and Duke's styles completed the other, they had been dubbed the 'Storm Pair', because Sam moved like lightning, and Duke was like thunder – they were near impossible to beat, but Kevin and Ryoma had pulled it off nearly every time once they'd both achieved Level Six. Kevin's spirit animal, funnily enough, ended up being a Lion – despite everyone predicting he would be some sort of dog. Kevin was overjoyed and had proclaimed it fate, as his fake last name was 'Lionheart'. Ryoma still remembered the last game the four had played…

––

_They were at the training club, using the two tennis courts at the same time. Duke and Sam verses Ryoma and Kevin. Currently all four were caught up in the _Muga no Kyōchi _and in the _Pinnacle of Perfection. _Ryoma's hat had fallen off long ago, and his green hair and eyes charged with captivating thrill of the game, next to him Kevin's eyes glowed like electric sapphires, his golden hair fanned out around his face, his signature sun-glasses discarded. _

_Sam was a __great force on the other side, his length of bronze hair twisted in an almost serpentine way as it flowed behind him – his saffron coloured eyes and slit-like pupils were wild behind his glasses. Next to him, Duke towered over all of them, his monstrous smooth, dark muscles shone with sweat, his mammoth size made all the more apparent next to Sam. Duke's eyes glittered like obsidian, his enormous hands dwarfing the racket they held. _

_They moved in a high-speed intricate dance, barely even seeming to touch the ground – barely even seeming to be playing –__ and to anyone watching, they could barely be seen. Flipping, turning, jumping, twisting, sliding, they flew around the courts smacking the ball back and forth in a game only they in the midst of the _Pinnacle_ could see. To an observer they appeared to flash into view at one point on the court, smash an invisible ball and then flicker and disappear, only to appear five meters away to hit the ball again._

_Ryoma returned the ball, his racket swishing faster then light – he landed on the balls of his feet and leapt backwards, rolling under a spin he felt Kevin doing over his head. Sam swooped across and whipped the ball back, Kevin smashed it in mid-flip, Duke used a powerful fore-hand to intercept it. Ryoma switched hands, and accelerated rapidly to where the ball was zooming, swinging his racket, and leaving an arc of blurred red in the air – he used a topspin – the ball connected with a cacophonous crack, directly returning to the opposition. Sam appeared behind it, and slashed it back using his Cork-screw Shot. _

_Ryoma wasn't worried as he knew Kevin would get it. Kevin launched himself forward, and smashed the ball using a super-advanced version of Ryoma's Twist Shot. Ryoma felt Duke moving towards it, and in a nano-second realised what would happen – he flung himself into a one-handed triple back-flip – trying to reach he other side of the court as quickly as could. Duke was an unstoppable force, he swiped at the ball, letting loose a thunderous roar. The ball blasted with pinpoint precision to the corner of the court – breaking the sound barrier as it did so. _

_But Ryoma was there waiting for it, and countered the Bullet Ball by using its own strength and transferring it into his return, also adding a two-handed side-spin to send it zooming past his opponents._

"_Three games all, Samurai's serve," Moon said from his umpiring position. His eyes were open; shining like turquoise orbs – he was also in the third _Pinnacle_ – he had to be to umpire the game. _

"_I think we are warmed up now," Sam contemplated opposite them. "Let us Level up Duke."_

"_Sure thing, Sammy-boy."_

_They both closed their eyes and breathed deeply, searching inside their souls for their animal spirits, then their stance changed, their eyes flew open to reveal an untameable cosmos of rainbow colours dancing within, but a glazed look was undeniably there too. _

_Ryoma exchanged a grin with Kevin. "Come on Lionheart, let's show these guys who the Super Pair are."_

"_Hai, buchou!" _

_The two closed their eyes also. Ryoma took a deep breath, centring his thoughts – clearing his head of everything else. Then he dived down into his very core, where he knew the ancient force was waiting for him. The Dragon. The beast was asleep like always, but once Ryoma had found it, he grasped the power and coaxed it out – feeling it rise up within him, filling his body, mind and soul. The green dragon's eyes snapped open, and the force flowed willingly into the racket in Ryoma's hand. _

_Ryoma opened his eyes. The net glittered as a thin boundary on the flat plain of the court, separating him from the other side, where two spirits were now visible. In front of Duke the shadowy shape of a black bear snarled at him, its muzzle curled back to reveal large white fangs, dripping in saliva. Hovering above Sam's racket on a wind that didn't exist was a proud hawk. Its piecing olden eyes glared at him, bronze wings beating rhythmically as it let out a shrieking challenge. The call was answered by a roar next to him. Kevin stare was wild and his mouth was open slightly as if he was the one who had roared. Emerging into existence and prowling forth onto the court from Kevin's very being was a glorious golden-coated lion. _

_A rumbling reverberation coursed through Ryoma, and then a snarling roar ripped through the air, silencing them all. Ryoma's dragon had awakened. It moved from Ryoma with such grace, fury, and a power the others couldn't hope to achieve. Its fore-claws would have dug into the ground, but instead it passed through the court like a ghost. Its green cat-like eyes darted from one beast to the next, its powerful muscles rippling and wings rustling with the tremendous urge to fight. _

_A sleeping wolf appeared in a rush of silver at the base of the umpire's chair off to the right. It woke and lifted its head slowly – blue orbs taking in the impatient creatures. With a yawn the wolf sat up and turned to look at Ryoma – its message obvious – _You can start now. _To an outside observer it looked like Ryoma had taken out a ball, thrown it up, and then the court simply exploded into movement, the ball disappearing from sight. _

_To Ryoma's point of view, he had thrown the ball up – the dragon in front of him had swivelled its head to focus on the spinning ball – then it had spread its wings and crouched, and swarmed through his racket in a blur of green, to pounce on the ball. The dragon rocketed to the other side of the shimmering net, where the bear clashed into it, roaring as it swiped the dragon, ripping the ball out of its jaws and throwing the dragon onto its side. Duke swiped his racket and the bear spirit surrounded the ball launched itself back onto Ryoma's side of the net. Kevin leapt forward, and the golden rush of his spirit met it, rising up from inside him and sinking its fangs into the bear's thick black fur. _

_The bear let out a bellow of pain – dispersing in a flurry of dark smoke and releasing the ball. The lion took it up and rocketed over the glittering net, only to have a screeching bird attack its eyes. The lion swiped one of its massive paws at the bird, but missed, and smashed into the ground dissolving and returning to its bearer. The hawk spirit snatched up the ball and soared over the boundary net. Ryoma rushed towards the ball and the bronze blur of its carrier, the dragon lunged ahead from within him. The hawk assembled more clearly and swerved desperately, but a set of sharp jaws snapped at its wing, slamming it into the ground. Ryoma swung and the dragon responded, coiling its body as it snarled and launched into the air – wisps of smoke escaped between its teeth. Wings unfurled, it added its power to Ryoma's shot with one forceful beat, and hurtled over the net. It saw Sam and the reassembled hawk screeching angrily, closing in fast. The dragon growled in fury and body-rolled to avoid it – sending the ball spinning away as it rapidly touched the ground, and twisted, just managing to avoid the swipe of the bear on its other side. With a furious roar of victory, the dragon let loose a jet of glowing fire, before disappearing and swarming back inside Ryoma. _

Fifteen – love, _was the wolf's call. _

––

Ryoma and Kevin had won that game, the hawk and the bear had acknowledged their win by bowing down – and they had faded out of Level Six – all the spirits returning to their sleep. The unfortunate side-effect of this was that they took the kids consciousness with them, leaving all of them collapsed on the ground, completely worn out. The more frequently that Ryoma went into Level Six, the more he got used to it; but Level Six was dangerous to use for too long as there was no way to tell how much time had passed, or if you've been injured, or how tired you were until you returned to normal. As a rule in EST, players were not allowed to play for more then three hours at a time. If the game went over that it had to be postponed and continued at a later date. It was the referees' responsibility to ensure that the players stopped if they went over the three hour mark. There were lots of horrible stories of people who had stayed in Level Six for hours on end, and when the had finally faded back to normal, they'd fallen into a coma, or even died as the stress had been too much for their heart.

**EST**

Seigaku won the first round of the tournament without much trouble; they also won the second round easily. But Ryoma hadn't paid much attention to the second round; he'd been put on reserve. The final round looked more promising – they were playing Fudomine. Though Fudomine was an unseeded team, Ryoma had a feeling they would present a little more challenge for Seigaku. Kawamura and Fuji were playing doubles first against Sakurai Masaya, and doubles partner Ishida Tetsu; a hard-hitter like Kawamura.

Ryoma was sitting on the sidelines with the rest of the team, he was watched Fuji doing one of his famous Triple Counters, the Tsubame Gaeshi (or the Swallow Return) and committing it to memory. Seeing Fuji now, there was no doubt that the boy was a tensai, and the other team seemed quite worried. Fuji's move turned the tide of the game around, and now Seigaku was leading. Fuji was smiling his usual creepy angelic smile as they returned to the base. Ryoma smirked under his hat;_ that guy always has to make himself look good. _

But on the other side a movement drew his eye, Ishida was doing something strange – he seemed to be silently communicating something to his buchou Tachibana, and a mummer of anticipation and worry was spreading through Fudomine's team. _They're up to something_; Ryoma narrowed his eyes slightly, and then turned his attention back to the game – watching Ishida closely. The second year seemed to be waiting on Tachibana's permission for something, Ryoma flicked his gaze back to the other team's buchou, and saw Tachibana raise one finger, and Ryoma looked quickly back at Ishida to see a quick grin flash across his features. _Uh oh… _Ishida's stance changed, and suddenly Ryoma realised what he was doing –_ crap, not good! How does this second year know that shot? _Ryoma breathed in sharply when he saw Fuji getting ready to receive it.

"No, don't touch it," he murmured without realising he'd spoken aloud. The other Regulars turned to look at him in surprise.

"What's that Ochibi-chan?" Kikumaru asked his brow furrowed in confusion.

"GO ISHIDA!" yelled the supporters for Fudomine, as the ball sped towards the player.

Ryoma clenched his jaw slightly. "Hadoukyuu," he muttered. He knew what would happen now, without having to see it, but there was nothing he could do to stop it.

"uuuUURRRAAHHHH!!" Ishida slammed the ball with all his strength into a power flat shot, there was a collective gasp around the court at the force behind the ball. Ryoma saw Fuji's eyes widen in surprise, saw Kawamura sprint forward – but he was in the wrong position now – when he hit the ball he would do it from a strange angle and would quite likely hurt himself trying to save Fuji.

"FUJI, MOVE!"

"T-Taka-san?!" 

Kawamura returned the ball with a strong forehand, and Ishida got ready to hit another Hadoukyuu – but the strings on his racket broke. Seigaku had got the point, but Ryoma knew they had lost this game. _If they had just not touched it, they would have won…_Ryoma sighed, and stood up to go get a drink.

"It's your turn senpai, good luck," he said to Oishi and Kikumaru, resisting the urge to give any advice as he wasn't their buchou.

"Eh? Echizen what do you mean?" Oishi asked, Ryoma kept walking, his hands in his pockets.

A few seconds later Fuji made Kawamura forfeit the game due to an injured wrist. 

Unfortunately the vending machine was out of Ponta, so Ryoma decided to go for plain water. He stopped when he heard Kamio Akira and his friend Ibu Shinji talking about how easy it will be to defeat Seigaku while hitting two balls back and forth in front of the drink fountain. Ryoma sensed Kaidoh behind him and the freshmen trio off to the side, and made a split decision to have some fun. _Hey, I'm thirsty,_ he thought smirking, and closed his eyes nonchalantly, walking forward with his racket shouldered.

"Hey fool, wait," Kaidoh growled in warning from behind him, as Ryoma was about to pass through the middle. Ryoma continued, hitting the balls as easily as if he were simply waving his racket about – still with his eyes closed.

"He passed right through!" Horio gasped.

"How did he do that?! He returned every ball!" Kachiro exclaimed.

The balls stopped moving as Kamio and Ibu caught them, and stared at Ryoma's back. Ryoma paid them no heed, and got his drink.

**EST**

The Golden Pair won the next match easily with six games to two, and then it was Kaidoh's turn. Ryoma was bored. First he'd played doubles, then he had been on reserve and it seemed to be taking forever to get to his match with that Ibu guy. Kamio had a lot of speed which seemed to shock the other Seigaku Regulars; Ryoma was just getting irritated by the guy's motto: "I'm in the rhythm." Finally after an excruciatingly long match – for Ryoma at least – Kaidoh won seven games to five.

_Alright!_ Ryoma was inwardly pumped, it didn't really matter who he played, or what skill Level his opposition was, tennis was tennis – it was all good.

"Good luck Echizen! Bring us a win!" The Regulars cheered him on.

"Ne, ne, why is Seigaku putting a freshman in? Is this match a deliberate forfeit? He's going to suffer…" Ryoma heard Fudomine supporters saying as he walked onto the court. He chuckled, _tennis is so much fun. _Ibu Shinji walked onto the other side. Ryoma spun his racket in his hand waiting for the referee to say he could go, feeling the familiar sensation of excitement before a game. He decided to start this game in Level Three, since he'd heard that Ibu rivaled Fuji's skill.

Ryoma smiled, and served his Twist Serve

_Whoops, _it seemed he started his Level a little high, Ibu froze, and the ball flew by the boy's face. Exclamations of amazement spread through the Fudomine team. Ryoma shifted impatiently.

"Referee…" he said to the dazed official, "aren't you going to call the score?"

"Fif-Fifteen to Love!"

The first game lasted little more then a minute, Ibu seemed to be having trouble catching on. Ryoma didn't mind too much, but he did wish the guy would hurry up and actually play…

"That freshman is good!"

"Who is that guy?"

Ryoma got ready to receive Ibu's serve, and his smile widened into a grin when he saw the familiar form, _so this guy can do the Twist Serve too? Finally things are getting interesting…_

He shifted his stance so to return the ball with ease, unfortunately he realised too late that it wasn't exactly the same as the Twist Serve, and the ball hit the net when he countered it.

"Kick Serve," he heard Inui say, _oh so it is different._

"You're still hiding something," Ibu Shinji called sounding slightly frustrated, "I can feel it."

Ryoma heard the spectators whispering, and exchanging looks as they listened in.

"What does he mean?"

"Not sure…"

Ryoma tugged on his hat to hide his smile, _heeh this guy is the first one to notice._

"Okay," Ryoma tossed his racket from his right hand to his left hand. "Then let's play."

"EHH?! HE'S LEFT-HANDED!" Fudomine exclaimed.

_I will never get tired of that, _Ryoma smirked.

"You're a lefty?" Ibu asked flatly.

Ryoma hummed. "You're pretty good to see through my plan so early."

"You're too arrogant…" Ibu muttered. "I'll crush you."

The game started again, Ryoma easily countered the Kick Serve, and they began to rally.

"Sorry, but I don't feel like losing. The Nationals sound like a lot of fun." Ryoma used a topspin to send the ball careering by Ibu, and bounce directly on the corner. He got the point and the game continued. Ryoma ran fluently, losing himself in the game, returning every shot, and countering every smash, slice, and topspin while barely breaking a sweat. He ran towards the net, and so Ibu did a lob, Ryoma smirked, _way too predicable, _he was already on his way back, he jumped up flicked the ball back – scoring a point without looking.

"Who the hell is this freshman?" Kamio growled from the sidelines.

_This is fun…_

"He's just like his dad," Ryoma heard Ryuzaki say from the bench.

"You know Echizen's father?" asked Oishi

"Hai, Ryoma's dad was a former tennis pro," Ryuzaki replied

"Former professional tennis player?" Oishi repeated, sounding amazed. "What kind of player was he? Was he also an attack specialist like Ryoma?"

"Attack specialist, eh…?" Ryuzaki chuckled as if remembering something fond. "He didn't have 'endurance' in his vocabulary. All he knew was how to attack. He was unbelievable. He had natural tennis sense along with speed and power. Above all, he had a unique way of absorbing knowledge."

"He was that great…" Oishi breathed.

"Aa," Ryuzaki said, "He was one of those talents that come only once every ten years… matte, maybe even rarer than that. But, Echizen Nanjiro was a monster that shattered all my expectations."

"Echizen Nanjiro invented Nitouryuu by himself?" Ryoma heard Tezuka say in a serious tone.

"Yes, it wasn't just to conquer the fact that he had a weak backhand," Ryuzaki said, "top-tier players always find a way to overcome barriers like that. Ryoma's dad was one of those guys."

"Now I finally understand," Tezuka said determinedly. Ryoma listened in intently as he played Ibu.

"Nani?" Ryuzaki asked.

"The person standing on that court right now is Echizen Nanjiro," Tezuka said confidently, "his power, speed, and reflexes… all of which surpass Regular players. If we include the fact that he consistently outperforms his opponents' expectations, then Echizen's tennis style is his father's copy."

"It's rare to see you declare something like that," Ryuzaki mused.

"But, when Echizen overcomes that barrier…" Tezuka sounded as if he were talking to himself, "what will be waiting for him at the end of that tunnel?"

"Saa…" Ryuzaki closed her eyes.

Ryoma blinked, he didn't know whether to laugh or feel insulted, _they think my style is a copy of that baka oyaji…?_ Then he remembered that he was still only playing in Level Three, _oh… so that's why, hmm, I guess its true then. _

The next rally started, Ryoma was barely paying attention by now, rather just immersing himself in the feeling of playing, and concentrating on not going above Level Three. It was hard sometimes to keep from accidentally going higher, if you were having too much fun, or getting too frustrated or angry, the Levels could sometimes increase by themselves. Since Ryoma didn't want people to know just how good he was yet, that was a bad thing. It was much more fun if people didn't actually know the full extent of his abilities, and also it meant that games were longer. What was the point in playing otherwise, if he just beat everyone in six minutes? Besides, it wasn't like he– _Nani?_

Ryoma was brought back to reality when he suddenly felt his arm go numb – the ball flew past him. Ryoma blinked… _strange_… he shook is arm… _what the hell?_

"Echizen's movement was frozen for a moment," he heard Tezuka comment to Fuji and Oishi. _Well duh… _Ryoma looked up at Ibu, _but how did he do it? _They began playing again, this time Ryoma paid more attention, _was he using a special move that I missed? Or was he building up to it…? He's doing a lot of topspins and slice shots… Ah! Again!_

Ryoma's arm froze again, but the ball was still coming – _damn it!_ Ryoma narrowed his eyes and twisted his body towards the ball, he felt his control on Level Three waver into Level Four, but he didn't care – whatever that guy was doing was pissing him off.

_Kuso_, Ryoma felt the racket in his hand slip as his grip suddenly failed. The red racket flew from his grasp with the force of a Level Four swing, it smashed into the pole and broke in two, rebounding instantly and rocketing back–

"_Ahh!_"

**EST**

Blood dripped onto the ground in fat red drops. His hat had fallen off and was lying some meters away. Ryoma himself was on the ground, one hand covering his eye.

More blood dribbled down his arm as it overflowed from his hand. He could hear people gasping in horror, whispering and pointing with big eyes, he could visualise the girls putting their hands over their mouths, and paling, his Regular team-mates frozen in place on the bench.

"Ittai," Ryoma said in a monotone, _how annoying…_ He used his other hand to push himself to his feet, keeping his head down so his hair covered his face. Ryoma bent over to pick up his hat again, pulling it on quickly. The whispering got louder. Ryoma dropped his arms. A cup full of blood fell out of his hand. It splashed across the court.

"Oh no! His eye is injured!"

"…there's a lot of blood…"

"Echizen!"

"That poor kid!"

"Ochibi!"

"…I think I'm gonna be sick…"

"Stop the bleeding quick!"

"Someone grab the first aid kit quickly!"

"I guess Seigaku will forfeit this game too…"

_Iie, I won't give up, not when I've been waiting so long to play, _Ryoma tugged his hat lower, his eyes closed against the blood. He heard some people walking towards him, and figured them to be some of the Seigaku Regulars.

"Ne, how is it?" Ryoma asked them as they neared closer.

Someone grabbed his arm gently. "Don't worry Echizen," Ryoma recognised the voice as Oishi's, "we'll get your eye fixed right up, come sit down." Oishi tried to guide him over to the bench.

Ryoma frowned. "Yadda. I meant my racket, did it completely break?" he heard Oishi stop suddenly, as if in shock.

"…Hai, it's broken completely," he identified the other person behind him as Fuji. Ryoma sighed, and allowed himself to be tugged off-court.

A few minutes later it was apparent the bleeding wouldn't stop, Ryoma was getting frustrated – he just wanted to play!

"Nya… its looks like it's really painful," Kikumaru said anxiously.

"What do you think, Oishi?" Tezuka asked his voice emotionless as always.

Oishi sounded worried. "From the looks of things… there's definitely no way this match can continue. Though… already gotten this far, ending it this way is rather disappointing." _Oh, I've had enough of this,_ Ryoma thought irritably – Level Four was still pulsing in his veins, taunting him with every second, _fuck this, I'm playing. _He stood up suddenly, manoeuvring around his senpai quickly, despite having both eyes closed.

"Eh? E-Echizen! What are you doing?!" Oishi called from behind him.

"Getting my spare racket," he replied flatly.

"Nani?! Nonsense, just look at yourself!" Oishi argued.

"The best thing to do is not to act irrationally!" Inui added. "Right now all the odds are against you in this situation."

"Echizen…" _that voice is Momo's_, Ryoma identified, as he reached his bag and unzipped it. "It can't be that you still want to continue with the match?"

Another person was approaching. "If the bleeding doesn't stop, I'm not going to let you compete." _Ah, the referee_. Ryoma pulled out his spare racket, sending exhilarating tingles through his body from the familiar grip. Then he set the racket down and unzipped another pocket on the inside of his bag – pulling out a roll of bandages.

"Echizen, what are you doing?" Ryuzaki-sensei asked; he could just imagine her sitting there with her arms crossed.

"Stopping the bleeding." Before anyone could stop him he quickly took off his hat, wrapped the bandage a few times around his eyes, tied it at the back, and put his hat back on – pulling it down to cover his face. There was deafening silence around him.

Then, "Ryoma," said Ryuzaki, her voice was kinder now, and he heard he sigh, "you silly boy. What am I going to do with you? Come here." Ryoma picked up his racket and obediently moved to stand in front of her, his other senses telling him where everyone was. There was more silence for a moment, and then Ryuzaki sighed again. "Does it hurt?"

"Betsuni."

"You know, that bandage will only hold for fifteen minutes at the most?"

"Hai."

"And obviously… you know you can't see." Ryoma took this as a statement, so didn't answer.

Instead he turned around to walk back on court, and said to the referee, "If the bleeding stops, I can compete, right?"

"B-But, you…!" the referee spluttered, Ryoma kept walking. Suddenly he heard Oishi step forward and grab his shoulder to stop him.

"Echizen, you can't seriously be considering playing when you can't see!"

Ryoma turned his head to where the voice was coming from. "…Hai," he confirmed simply.

"_Echizen_?!"

"Oishi-senpai, you worry too much."

"Ten minutes," Tezuka suddenly spoke up, "if in ten minutes, the victor is not decided, you'll have to forfeit, understand?"

Ryoma grinned,_ yes! _he inwardly cheered. "Hai buchou," he said, and then couldn't resist adding, "…but I bet I could do it in five." Ryoma turned back to the vice-captain. "Oishi-senpai, could you show me where the net is?" Once he knew where the net was, he would be able to work out where the boundary lines were, and thereby play as well as if he had before with his eyes open – even better in fact – as now he was in Level Four.

Ryoma walked to the serving position, and an outcry started around the court.

"The match is continuing?!"

"That shortie still wants to play?"

"Isn't that guy injured…?"

"Wha…?"

"Wait, that's a _bandage_ around his eyes!"

"Is planning on playing _blind_?!"

Ryoma heard Ibu Shinji take up the receiving position on court. He knew the boy was staring at him, so Ryoma raised his head slightly to look at the place he'd heard Ibu's feet stop.

"You won't get to use your technique again," Ryoma told him coolly, "I've sealed it now. You're still Mada Mada." He had realised how Ibu was doing it just before his racket had broken. If he didn't allow the guy to hit any topspins, and kept switching hands with his racket, then it would no longer be a problem. Ryoma served with his left hand.

_Pah-voom!_

It shot past Ibu.

"Whoa! That guy can still hit the ball, even though he can't see!"

"Ochibi-chan isn't slowing down at all!" Ryoma heard Kikumaru say from the sideline.

"Forget slowing down," Inui said, "Echizen's pace has increased!"

_Pah-vroom!_

"His serve has changed…" Fuji mused.

"Sugoi… I-It's getting faster!" Momo gasped.

_Pah-zoom!_

"Game Seigaku, four games to two."

Ibu served next, and Ryoma leapt forward to meet it. He hit it back with a sleek flick, heard Ibu slice it – spun on his heel – switched hands, and backhanded it. Ibu's feet pounded across the court and his racket hit a cross-shot. Ryoma used the Split-step and slid stylishly behind the ball, switched hands and fore-handed it back – scoring a point. Next Ibu served again, and Ryoma countered, he heard Ibu slice it and glided to where it would hit, slamming it back with natural ease. Ibu countered it, with some trouble by the sounds of it, Ryoma switched hands – stretched his arm out behind him and flicked the ball back; in a move that mimicked one of Kikumaru's favourites.

He won that point too. The next one was faster; Ibu seemed to be letting his frustration get control of him. Ryoma hit it back twice as fast, he could feel the game of tennis flowing through him – this was his home, what he lived for – and he loved it. The wind rippled across his shirt as he jumped high, arms spread out with graceful pose, before whipping around and smashing the ball. His point.

Ryoma switched hands; he could hear Ibu breathing heavily from the other side as he served. Ryoma rapidly took two steps, fore-handing it back, Ibu sliced it to the other corner – but Ryoma was already there. He slid into place behind it, dust rising from his feet, smoothly returning the ball. Ibu gasped in shock, lunged for the ball and tried to flick it to the right top corner, Ryoma switched hands with his racket and pounced forward, sending a fast topspin before Ibu could even move.

"Game Seigaku, five games to two."

"That's strange…" Ryoma heard Ryuzaki-sensei say as he got ready to serve again.

"Nani?" Tezuka asked.

"Ryoma's play-style… it's changed…"

"What do you mean sensei?" That was Kikumaru.

"Before Ryoma's style was a copy of his father's… but now, Ryoma's playing has changed, it's more fluent – certainly more graceful then his father ever was – and he has better form too. I'm sure you all noticed the increase in power and speed as well…"

"Maybe this is Echizen-kun's real style then, maybe he's actually playing seriously," Fuji said; his voice sounded like it was contemplating something.

"Fssshhhh, what are you saying? That the brat wasn't playing seriously before?"

Ryoma smirked. "Heeeh, I never play seriously senpai," he heard the shocked gasp from the Seigaku bench as he spoke up. "Where's the fun in that?"

Kikumaru eeped. "Nya! We forgot about Ochibi-chan's super-hearing powers!" Ryoma threw the ball up and served.

_Pah-doom!_

It soared past Ibu again.

"Fifteen-Love!" the referee called.

_Pah-floom!_

"Thirty-Love!"

Ryoma heard Ibu ground his teeth in frustration. He served again.

_Pah-ponk!_

Ah, he returned it, Ryoma flung himself to where the ball was heading. He landed lightly and smacked it back, Ibu sliced it – Ryoma pivoted and switched hands, hitting it into the other corner. Ibu sprinted and hit it. Ryoma pivoted back again, this time hitting it into the other corner. Ibu's eyes widened and he charged to the other line, barely making it in time, but slicing it with a loud grunt.

"Whoops," Ryoma stated and smirked at Ibu from mid-jump, he'd run towards the net and flown into a long jump – easily intercepting the ball and smashing it.

"Forty-Love!"

Ibu managed to hit back his next serve too, Ryoma smiled as he switched hands and flipped the ball in a swift return._ What fun…_ Ibu socked it back – Ryoma slid his feet around, twisting his body as he did so, and whacking the ball simultaneously. Ibu gnashed his teeth furiously, leapt and smashed the ball; Ryoma skimmed the ground as he spun on his heel, dashed across the court towards the net again, throwing himself into a roll to catch the smash in time. He sprung to his feet, revolving quickly and standing up. Ryoma paused for a second as he listened, then he shouldered his racket and smirked.

"Wha…?"

"Did you see that?"

"Where'd the ball go?"

"What happened to the ball?"

"…he rolled and stopped the smash…"

"Whose point was it?"

"…where's the ball gone?"

_Pah-sssssssshhhhhh…_

Behind Ibu – exactly on the line – the ball landed and spun on the spot. After a few seconds it slithered to a stop.

There was silence. Then…

"…G-Game set, match won by Seigaku, Echizen. Six games to two."

The crowd erupted into cheers, amazed comments springing back and forth as people clapped.

"Ne, buchou, ten minutes didn't pass, did it?"

Tezuka checked his watch. It had only been four minutes and thirty-nine seconds.

**EST**

**A/N**

**Nya! Super-Ryoma! :D**

**Gomen, this one had so much tennis in it, the next one will be a little more easy-paced.**

**Next chapter will be up soon: Another pillar of support…?**

**Arigato guzaimasu!**

– _**Mel XX**_

57


	4. Another Pillar of Support?

Extreme Streets Tennis

**G'day!**

**I'm so sorry for the long delay! But I can promise that it won't happen again… ^_^` I am working on 3 other stories atmo tho, so updates could still be a little sporadic. **

**If you read the previous chapters again and thought maybe they were a little different, it's just cause I fixed up the grammar and sentence structure. Only the doubles match between Kevin, Ryoma, Sam and Duke is really any different. **

**Anyway, here's a reminder of the different Levels of tennis.**

Level One: child's-play, amateur styles, basically warming up.

Level Two: intermediate skill, slightly complicated moves and techniques.

Level Three: advanced skills, techniques and specialities.

Level Four: a wider range of complicated techniques, general skill level is higher.

Level Five: _Muga no Kyōchi _or the State of Self Actualization. The three 'pinnacles,' considered the epitome of tennis.

Level Six: The inner spirit is awakened.

**Enjoy XD**

**EST**

Ryoma stood in front of the bathroom mirror, examining the fading scar on his eye. It was only faint now after two days, but he could tell it was the kind of scar that would heal completely without leaving a mark. Ryoma sighed lightly and leant back to stare into his own golden eyes. Playing tennis with the Seigaku team was different. It was more exciting than playing solo in tournaments, but not as thrilling – or as life-threatening – as playing in Extreme Streets tournaments. And as for his team mates… Ryoma's reflection smiled slightly as he thought of them. He'd only known them for two weeks, but somehow it felt much longer then that. He had thought he'd never find people he could enjoy being around in the same way he had enjoyed being around his old teammates in America. They didn't fill the hole completely, but they helped Ryoma to forget the hole was there.

It really wasn't so bad here… Life was pretty simple; go to school, play tennis, come home, train, sleep, and repeat. Nothing much to worry about except for when the next tournament match was. The only thing that perhaps wasn't good at the moment was Ryoma's nightmares, but could live with them – he was used to them by now.

**EST**

"_Are you nervous?"_

_Ryoma was silent as he stared out at the city lights spread before them from the rooftop of the warehouse. The night was still around them, but the noise of New York's traffic filled the streets that were only just hidden by neighbouring buildings. He could feel Felix's cool gaze from where he was leaning on the railing next to him. The dark-haired fifteen year old gave a short chuckle at Ryoma's silence, and his nimble fingers went to his pocket. "Want a fag?" At this Ryoma turned his head to look at the offered box._

_He nodded. "Thanks," and took one._

"'_Welcome," Felix seemed amused, but Ryoma ignored it, lit the cigarette, and went back to staring. After a few moments, Ryoma could feel the older boy's eyes again. "It's okay if you're nervous. Everyone is nervous the first time–"_

"_Yadda. I can't do it."_

_Felix's silky voice dropped a few degrees. "Why not?"_

_Ryoma shot a look at him. "Why me?" he fired back._

"_Why not you?" Felix stepped closer. Ryoma turned his head away again, glaring furiously at nothing. Long fingers grasped his shoulder. "Do you have a problem with it, Samurai?" _

"_Why does it have to be me?" Ryoma's voice was high-strung compared to Felix's and his heart was beating in his ears. Even the cigarette wasn't helping much. "The others have been here longer than me, why not one of them? Why not Moon, or Kevin even–?"_

_Felix cut in sharply, "Neither has the same level of potential or skill that you do, nor learned as quickly as you did." _

"_But–" Ryoma sucked on his cigarette, and clenched the railing of the rooftop with both hands. A dog started barking nearby. "…I don't even know how to be a Captain," he said._

"_Just keep doing as you're doing. The others already look up to you, and respect you. You've beaten everyone in single matches, except for me. You're naturally the best choice for the position." _

_Ryoma let out the breath he'd been holding in one gust. "But what if they don't want me to be their Captain… and what does a Captain even do, anyway?"_

"_You support your team mates. You become their pillar of strength. Their pillar of support."_

_Ryoma chewed on his cigarette for a moment. "Alright," he said, "I'll do it. But…" Ryoma turned to scowl at Felix threateningly, "the first person to call me Captain Samurai dies a painful death, got it?"_

RING!

Ryoma jerked awake on his desk as the loud school bell rang. Chatter rose around him as students packed their stuff together and left the English classroom. Ryoma stretched and rolled his shoulders as he got to his feet, finally it was the end of the day, he only had tennis practice next, and then he could go ho– his stomach grumbled –and get some burgers with Momo.

Ryoma walked to the locker room and changed into his tennis gear, he was one of the first ready to start, and so began warming up by hitting a tennis ball against the wall. A few minutes later as he repeatedly hit the ball at the same spot, he became aware of being watched from off to the left. Subtly, Ryoma stole a look to the side from under his hat – and then started when he saw who it was – hitting the ball slightly harder than necessary in surprise.

Tezuka.

He was just standing there with his arms crossed, staring at him from near the fountains. Ryoma silently continued to whack the ball as he tried to think of a reason for this – but nope, he was coming up with nothing. Inwardly sighing, Ryoma stopped the ball and bounced it on his racket.

"Something you want, Buchou?" he turned to the stoic boy. Tezuka just continued his levelled gaze, _but two can play at that game_, Ryoma thought, and so he waited patiently for a reply.

"Do you know the clay court in Haruno University?" Tezuka said eventually.

Ryoma blinked. "The newly renovated place, right? I know it." Tezuka uncrossed his arms, and pulled a tennis ball out of his pocket. He threw it to Ryoma – who caught it on reflex, and then frowned in confusion. "Nani?"

"I'll be waiting for you at 3:00 pm three days from now," Tezuka said, "come alone. I'll bring the balls." With that, the Captain put his hands in his pockets and walked away – leaving Ryoma standing there slightly stunned.

_Okay…_ Ryoma placed the ball Tezuka had given him on his now stationary racket – it rolled and stopped to lightly touch Ryoma's own tennis ball. _Oh well, at least I'll get to see how good the Buchou really is. _

**EST**

Tezuka clicked the front door closed behind him as he stepped out into the early morning air of the next day. The sky on the horizon was pinker then usual this morning; almost red on the shapely clouds drifting leisurely by. His shoes loudly crunched on the gravel path as the Seigaku captain began his way to morning practice. A cool breeze played with his hair, making a wind-chime sway on the next door's front porch. The street was deserted which was strange, usually there were a couple of joggers going for an early morning run or something.

He walked lost in thought, until a deep throated bark from a neighbouring house startled him. Tezuka frowned slightly as he continued to walk pass the house, Papi – the dog – was ordinarily friendly, and rarely barked at passerby's. Tezuka dismissed it; he didn't have pets, maybe Papi was just getting old. The deep barks followed him down the street, only fading when Tezuka turned a corner.

"Ohayou Tezuka," Fuji's voice came from off to the side as the boy left his house. Tezuka paused to wait for him, and then the two continued walking to school.

"…" Tezuka watched Fuji out of the corner of his eye. Then he focused back on the street, pushing his glasses more securely onto his nose. He looked back at Fuji. After a few minutes of walking in silence, not even the stoic captain could stand it any longer. "Fuji?" he asked firmly, getting the boy's attention. "Is something wrong?"

"Hmm? Why?" Tezuka slowed, and Fuji matched him.

"…" they gazed at each other for a heavy moment.

"Oh." Fuji closed his eyes and the familiar mild smile took over his face. "Is this better?"

"Aa," they continued walking. "What's wrong then?" Tezuka asked sternly.

Fuji smiled. "Oh nothing much. Just one of my cacti on the outside windowsill – it fell off, and since my bedroom is on the second floor…" his expression darkened again.

"So," Tezuka frowned, "you found it as you left the house this morning."

"Mmm," Fuji hummed, and then smiled at Tezuka. "Perhaps it's a sign. Maybe I should skip school today?"

"…Education should not be disregarded. If you ignore your studies you are disrespecting your teachers and your hard-working peers," he responded severely.

Fuji giggled, "I was just joking Tezuka. Saa… now I feel fine."

The two rounded a corner and a strange sight greeted them. A small crowd of people had gathered outside a general store, exclaiming loudly to one another. Tezuka and Fuji joined the back curiously – some people moved off allowing them to see the store. The huge glass window had been broken, and police tape surrounded it. Shards of glinting glass littered the place where the window had been.

"It's a disgrace isn't it?" a lady said to her friend.

Her friend clucked in agreement. "What is this place coming to?"

"A person breaking in – just for some smokes!" The two walked off shaking their heads disdainfully.

A nearby jogger nudged a guy wearing a suit. "Pretty amazing though, how they did it. I mean that glass is pretty thick!"

"Yeah," the suit guy nodded, "must have been one hell of a tennis ball!" they laughed and moved off.

Fuji gazed at the vandalised general store. "Tennis ball?"

Tezuka frowned. "Come, or we'll be late for practise," he said, even though it was still early yet.

Fuji smiled at him. "Hai, Buchou."

**EST**

The next day was hard for Ryoma, every moment seemed excruciatingly long – the clocks on the walls seemed to tick slower, and all his teachers pulled out extra-boring work and lectures, as if they had all conspired to save it just for today. His baka oyaji was being, if possible, even more annoying then usual, and the weather was too hot. Much to his chagrin the day after that was no better, and he found himself snapping increasingly snarky and sarcastic comments at anyone who talked to him.

**EST**

_Ah… sweet water…_ Ryoma closed his eyes in bliss as he slowly drank from the fountain. It was after practise now and mostly everyone had gone home. Ryoma had changed back into his school uniform and was waiting for Momo to come out of the changing room so he could hitch a ride home on his senpai's bike. Ryoma squeaked the tap off, and wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. Then he paused, his sensitive ears picked up a noise from behind him.

"Momo-senpai?" Ryoma looked over his shoulder – then all around the small courtyard surrounding the fountain. There was no one there. Ryoma mentally shrugged and bent to pick up his racket. The back of his neck itched and prickled fiercely, and he turned his head sharply to scan the courtyard again. _Something's there…_ he was sure of it, but again the courtyard was empty. Ryoma frowned.

The change room door clanged loudly as it opened, making Ryoma jump. Momo came out dressed in his school uniform.

"Ne Echizen, ready to go?" The second year walked over with a friendly grin.

Ryoma scowled at him. "Baka. Hurry up." He started walking towards the school gate.

"Nani? Echizen that's no way to treat your senpai, no it is not!" Momo's hand mussed up Ryoma's hair as he caught up to him.

"You bastard," Ryoma growled, and he slowed to fix up his hair. Momo just laughed and went to unchain his bicycle from the bike rack. Unable to help himself, Ryoma glanced back towards the small courtyard. _There's probably nothing there… _

Two birds suddenly trilled and fled the school roof, shooting over his head as if something had startled them into flight. Ryoma's gaze fixed to the spot they had been, watching the roof for any other sign of movement.

"Oi, Echizen! Now who's the slow one?" Momo yelled from the school gate. Ryoma, still frowning, turned and ran to get on the back of his senpai's bike. As they left he couldn't resist looking back once more at the school. _If nothing is there, then why do I feel so uneasy…?_

**EST**

Ryoma closed the door behind him with a small relieved sigh. All the way home he couldn't quite shake the strange feeling hovering over him, but now that he was inside he felt better. He kicked off his shoes and dropped his school bag by the door, calling out a flat hello in case anyone cared he was home, and made for the stairs leading to his room.

He stopped when a loud crash and a squawk of pain came from the kitchen. Ryoma listened to the following sounds of several somethings smashing, and watched as a lone plate rolled out of the kitchen and clattered to a stop in front of him. Ryoma gazed at the plate on the floor, and then at the doorway of the suddenly utterly silent kitchen.

"Che," Ryoma stepped forward to enter the kitchen, but found his way blocked.

"Ehehe… What, home already, brat?" Nanjiro stood in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck, and smiling too wide to be normal. "I thought you were supposed to be at that tennis club? Don't tell me you're slacking off! Eh, kids these days are so lazy! Why, I bet all you want to do is go up to your room and lie on the bed! Ah well, don't let me keep you…" Nanjiro made shooing motions at Ryoma who just stared back in response.

Eyes narrowing slightly, Ryoma leant to the right to try and see into the kitchen. Again his view was blocked as Nanjiro leant with him, still smiling too widely. Ryoma glared up at his annoying father and there was a beat of tense silence for a moment as both of them refused to move. The sweat-drops on the back of Nanjiro's head were multiplying by the second.

Finally Ryoma closed his eyes, and stretched his arms behind his head. "Heeeh, fine. I'm not sure I want to know anyway."

"Nothing to know! Nothing to know!" Nanjiro sang happily, pushing Ryoma towards the stairs. "Besides, shortie brats like you shouldn't be interested in things that don't concern th– HEY!" Ryoma ducked under his arm and darted through the kitchen doorway. "BRAT!"

Ryoma stared at the mess that was their kitchen – at the flour covering nearly all surfaces, the sticky brown goo dripping down the side of the cabinet from a large up turned bowl, at the broken china scattered over the floor – and was that whipped cream sprayed across the wall? "…baka oyaji…"

"It's not my fault!" Nanjiro wailed. "Nanako went out, and your mother's at work, and I was hungry, and the woman on the TV made it look easy! But it _wasn't_!" Ryoma turned to their blaring TV on the bench corner where a woman, with what could be two melons stuffed down her shirt, was carefully decorating a cake. "Do you know how difficult it is to bake a cake? First I couldn't get the stove to work, and the eggs wouldn't crack right, and the shell kept going to the mixture! The flour burst everywhere when I opened the bag, and the lady on TV kept distracting me at crucial moments… OI! Brat!" Ryoma was halfway up the stairs. "BRAT! HELP ME CLEAN IT UP!!"

"Yadda!"

Ryoma put his father's antics out of his mind as he went to his room. He was looking forward to curling up with Karupin for the next couple of hours and trying to forget what a boring day it had been today… he reached for the doorhandle and went to open the door to his room, but before he'd even opened it quarter of the way–

"REOW!" a white blur shot out and clamoured up his leg to his shoulder. Ryoma grabbed the cat on reflex, and held him. He looked at Karupin in surprise, his cat seemed… spooked or something… Ryoma patted him and shushed softly until Karupin had calmed down enough to retract his claws from Ryoma's shoulder.

Ryoma frowned as he looked back at the small open gap to his bedroom. He pushed the door fully open, revealing his room completely, and stood at the entrance for a few moments looking around. What exactly he was expecting to see, he wasn't quite sure… but one thing was certain; whatever it was it wasn't there. The room appeared normal. Ryoma cuddled and scratched his cat as he walked in and closed the door behind him. He shivered as he placed a reluctant Karupin down on his bed, and turned to close the window.

_Wait… what?_

Ryoma stared at the open window; it was starting to get dark outside and the fading sun threw a rectangle of red light across the carpet, the curtains were shifting gently with a cool breeze. _But…_ he hadn't left it open… had he? His brow creased as he tried to remember whether he had or not, and he reached forward to close it. _I must have left it open…_

Ryoma scanned his room once more, feeling unsure. Then he started to notice little things about his room. Hadn't that book been next to his bed? Had that photo always been pointed in this direction? Wasn't that pen by his lamp this morning? Those papers hadn't been in a pile like that… The uneasy sense from before rose again, more definite this time. Suddenly feeling terribly exposed in his own room, Ryoma shifted so that his back was against a wall.

_Something's not right, _Ryoma thought, as his eyes continually flicked around the room, spotting things that might have changed or moved; dust that had been disturbed on shelves he barely touched. _Had that old man been in his room? _Karupin mewed by the closed door, wanting to go out again. Ryoma couldn't help but agree with his pet. Maybe a bath would make him feel better.

A few minutes later he was nice and warm, sitting in the steaming water, and letting it soak into his body. His thoughts had drifted to tennis again, and the game he had with Tezuka the next day. He and the captain were skipping the afternoon tennis practice to play the match, and surely everyone at the club would wonder where they were, and what was going on. _Che, they were always so nosy._

The real question was how far he should go with Tezuka's match. He couldn't show the Seigaku Buchou what his real ability was, as that would be breaking the code of EST, but should he go far enough to beat the captain? Should he only just lose? He knew that was why Tezuka wanted this match; to test how good Ryoma was, and to probably encourage him and motivate him more… but should he–

_Creak…_

Ryoma's head shot up with a splash and he stared at the ceiling with wide eyes. His eyes followed the sound, as if he could somehow develop x-ray vision if he stared hard enough. The sound moved further away. _Groan… creak…_

Something was on the roof. It wasn't Karupin, it was too heavy for her. But there was definitely something out there… or someone.

**EST**

He was being followed. He had no idea why, but his imagination easily supplied ideas for _who_ it was, and throughout the rest of the night one name continuously flashed through his thoughts.

Ryoma had quickly left the bathroom and checked the roof, but whoever it had been was gone again. His mind raved with different questions and possibilities as he'd stood alone on the roof tiles, and he felt like a cat with all its fur sticking on end; he couldn't relax. Why was someone following him? Want did they want? Ryoma returned to his room and wiped his forehead irritably as he sat down on his bed.

This was utter nonsense, he was being ridiculous. If he was being followed he just had to think rationally about why that would be and the answer would come to him easily, _if he only it wasn't so hot…_

The dark-haired boy lay down on the bed and shut his bright eyes tight. But no matter how long he tossed and turned and re-organised his sheets and pillows, he just couldn't relax enough to sleep. Crazy notions of Felix being right outside his window, or of footsteps stopping right outside his door played over and over in his mind, until finally the light of dawn appeared through the curtains, and Ryoma fell asleep.

**EST**

"Saa… Inui?"

"Hai?" Inui looked up from where he was scribbling notes in a green book. Fuji had left the other Regulars still stretching on the court and was now standing next to him.

"Have you gathered any new data on Echizen?" Fuji asked. Inui adjusted his glasses, and flipped the pages of the notebook back to about half-way through the book.

"Aa. Hmm. Echizen Ryoma… I must apologise Fuji, but it seems the data I've gathered previously has a ninety-six percent chance of being unreliable."

Fuji's smile widened. "That much, huh?"

"Echizen's data appears almost fluid and changes frequently. Yesterday, for instance, the level of flexibility Echizen displayed during the drills was on the verge of Kikumaru's level. Echizen, however, has never used that extent of flexibility in any of the court games… that we've seen…" Inui's glasses flashed as he sat forward suddenly, as if he'd just thought of something new. He began scribbling quickly in the notebook. "In every game of his I have recorded, Echizen has presented a single constant, which is his incredible control over his abilities… this leads me to believe… that there is an eighty-seven percent chance that Echizen is still holding back the true extent of his abilities."

"Aa," Fuji sighed lightly, "I thought that myself."

Inui stopped scribbling and looked down at his fellow third year. "As expected of Fuji, but there is another aspect of Echizen's tennis style I have considered. I believe that Echizen has played another sport, other then tennis – or at least – he has had some special training in another sport."

"Oh? Like what, Inui?"

"…I do not have enough data to make an accurate assessment," Inui said, "but most probably a sport that requires great control, flexibility, and power. Perhaps gymnastics."

Fuji's face went blank. "Gymnastics…?"

"Besides that, there is also the question of why Fuji is so interested in Echizen's data. Would you care to expand on your reasons for the enquiry?"

"…"

"Fuji?" Inui readied his pen.

"Hmm? What?" Fuji turned back to the data player. "Oh, gomen Inui, I wasn't listening. Thank you for the interesting information. Though, while I agree that Echizen probably has participated in another sport, I cannot see him wearing a leotard… willingly..." Fuji paused, and turned his serene face to scan the court in front of them. Fuji's expression didn't change, but his tone was tilted with annoyance as he spoke up again. "Ne, Inui? Isn't it strange that our Buchou, Fuku-Buchou, and our youngest Regular all have yet to arrive at practice?"

**EST**

The train clattered and swayed beneath his feet, and he inaudibly panted as he tried to catch his breath. He lowered his cap so the light would stop stinging his eyes. His eyelids were heavy with tiredness, his tongue felt too big in his mouth. He could really do with a drink of cold water; this heat was getting to him, even in an air-conditioned train, he was sweating. The train swayed beneath him again, and he grasped his racket bag tighter in his fist – it felt heavier the usual today. He turned his head slightly and peered at the Seigaku Captain from under his cap; the older boy looked as stoic as ever, it was obvious the heat wasn't affecting him. Ryoma turned away again and stared sullenly out the window.

He'd barely had an hour's sleep the night before, and even then he'd been late to school. At least school had finished earlier today, Ryoma wasn't sure he could have taken much more of it. People had been asking him annoying questions all day, 'Why is Ryoma-kun so quiet today?' or, 'Echizen, are you alright?' and, 'Are you worried about the science test or something, it's just you look a little pale…?' Plus he'd been trying to keep an eye out for his mysterious stalker, who hadn't yet shown themselves once today. In fact he'd been so distracted and hot and bothered, he'd almost completely forgotten about the match with Tezuka today.

For a brief amount of time Ryoma had even considered asking Tezuka to post-pone the match to a later date, when he wasn't under so much stress… before he'd come to his senses and squashed the idea vehemently. He wasn't going to let a little hot weather and a bad night's sleep stop him from versing Tezuka – whom he'd wanted to play and test his ability since he'd first joined the Seigaku team. The train swayed again and Ryoma closed his eyes tight as a sudden burst of pain throbbed in his temples. Ryoma panted soundlessly for a few moments as he recovered. That had been happening a lot today too – painful headaches that came in stops and starts – probably a result of thinking too much and the lack of sleep.

Finally the train reached their stop, and Ryoma and Tezuka got off together. The University court was right next to the station so luckily they didn't have to walk too far. They entered the court silently, Tezuka quickly taking up the opposite position on the far end. Ryoma took in a deep breath before letting it out slowly, trying to make himself relax. He dropped his bag by the entrance, taking his time as he rummaged through it for one of his rackets. A wave of nausea momentarily washed over him from looking down too long and he quickly looked up again, sucking in another gulp of air. He swallowed, trying not to grimace too obviously as he turned around to face his Buchou.

Tezuka already had his racket and a tennis ball in hand, so Ryoma figured the other boy would serve. He fell automatically into a receiving position, deciding to go straight to Level Four. Eyes fixed on the captain Ryoma started bouncing on the spot for the split-step, and focused on raising his Level. But before he could get it high enough though, Tezuka served.

_Pah-chuu!_

The ball flashed by Ryoma in a yellow blur, and he blinked in surprise. A smile crept across his face despite his head-ache.

"Heh, a fast one right off the bat," Ryoma said, turning his attention back to Tezuka, only to blanch in shock.

The look Tezuka was giving him was deadly serious, his glasses glinted in the light, and there was no trace of a returning smile on his lips. Ryoma had thought this would just be a friendly game with the Captain, but apparently that was not what Tezuka had in mind. Ryoma once again tried to concentrate and raise his Level up to Four, but it was incredibly hard for some reason. It felt like his own body was resisting him. Tezuka served again and Ryoma leapt for it, barely catching the ball – sending it flying only to hit the net. Ryoma scowled. _What was this?_

The game continued without much improvement. He was bewildered and irritated at his body's sudden rebellion, and even when he finally broke the barrier of Level Four, he then had to concentrate hard to keep himself there. After a long-rally for the last point, Tezuka won his service game, leaving Ryoma panting and sweating already. _What's with this reaction? _Ryoma worried from his kneeling position on the ground. His golden eyes were bright as he glared at the Seigaku Buchou, wondering if his lack of control was somehow the older boy's doing.

"Echizen!" Tezuka barked suddenly as he stared unflinchingly back down at Ryoma. "Can you beat me?" The challenge sharpened Ryoma's thoughts for a moment, steadying his control.

Ryoma stood up again, his face darkened by the shadow of his cap. "I'll do it if you say so," he replied in a monotone. He took up his favourite position on the base-line, and began to bounce the ball. He wasn't sure what was going on, but he would beat it nevertheless. _I will beat the captain!_ Ryoma threw the ball up, and smacked it towards Tezuka. The ball spun on impact and then soared upwards completing the famed Twist Serve.

Tezuka shifted; his movements made in total calm and control. Ryoma saw too late that his technique wouldn't work. Tezuka had bent his back to make the shot a high shot, and then added a half volley to spin the ball further as he returned it – sending the ball speeding by Ryoma's foot. Tezuka fixed Ryoma with a stern golden gaze. "The Twist Serve won't work on me," he informed Ryoma, who stared back as he came to a realisation. Tezuka wasn't playing; he was going all out.

A rush of appreciation flickered through Ryoma, and he smiled again. Tezuka was not treating him like some kid-freshman; but as an equal, worthy of his respect.

"Nice one, as expected of the Buchou." Ryoma switched to his left hand again, and served a fast shot. The rally continued, but now both boys were putting a huge amount of force behind their hits. Ryoma was finding himself hard-pressed to keep up, his control and focus continued to waver, and he was finding it slightly difficult to breathe due to the tightness of his chest.

"Echizen, why do you play tennis?" Tezuka suddenly asked him. Ryoma didn't immediately reply, and Tezuka frowned as he countered the ball. "Why? _Why_?!"

Alarmed at the sudden forceful questioning, Ryoma swiped at the ball with a top-spin and yelled back, "I have someone I want to defeat!"

His answer seemed not to impress the Buchou, whose next shot caused Ryoma arm to hurt when he returned it. "You're playing tennis for the sake of defeating someone. Is that enough for you, Echizen?"

"What do you mean?" Ryoma felt slightly desperate; it was hard to concentrate on keeping his Level up – which was now wavering dangerously – _and_ hold a conversation at the same time.

"What will you have left after that? What are you going to do after you defeat him? What will you be left with?" Tezuka fired the questions one after another. Was this some sort of tactic of his? Distract the opponent or something?

"I don't know!" Ryoma whacked the ball. "Money. Respect. Skills." He paired each answer with swift shots to opposite corners of the court.

"But what do you want out of it!" Tezuka countered each shot, even though they were all hard ones.

Ryoma's mind whirled, his blood pumped fiercely through his body, his breath came in sharp gasps. "I want…" _What did he want?_ "…I want…!" _What was it? _"…I…" '_Dare to play this game and you can do anything in the world!'_ "I want to stand on top of the world! As Number One!" Ryoma slammed the ball, but Tezuka's stance had changed. His racket angled downwards so subtly that at first Ryoma didn't see it. Tezuka swept his racket across his body steadily. A Drop shot.

Ryoma was too unprepared, and the ball landed and rolled back into the net.

"Echizen, see if you can beat me!"

Once again, Ryoma found himself shocked by the Seigaku Buchou. Of course he'd seen a Drop Shot before, but that… that had been an utterly perfected version of the technique – it took almost legendary skill to pull something as grand as that off. This guy must be a very high Level Four, on the brink of Level Five… in fact Ryoma was sure Tezuka Kunimitsu would definitely be suitable to the more extreme version of this sport. A slightly wild grin pulled at his lips. "As expected, you're good Buchou. But I won't lose like this."

"Hn."

Again the ball was set into motion, and both of the boys were hard pressed to keep up in the fierce rally. Sweat dripped into Ryoma's eyes, but he couldn't spare a moment to wipe it away – his vision blurred and for the next few shots he was playing blind. Ryoma gritted his teeth as he hit a hard top-spin; he wouldn't lose like this, he could do better than this, damn it! He returned the ball once more – only it veered from the course he was aiming for, and nearly landed out. _Kuso! What the hell is wrong with me?! _

Suddenly his entire stomach clenched, and all his air whooshed out of him in one gush. It felt like someone had just walloped him in the gut, and for a moment Ryoma was frozen in pain. The ball was speeding back towards him over the net – so he forced the pain from his mind – and leapt forward to meet the ball. As he smacked it back he was startled to realise that his Level had radically dropped to Level Two. The ball thwacked into the net and fell to the ground. Tezuka called the score, three games to two, with the older boy in the lead, while Ryoma collected the ball and went back to the base position. His vision swam as he wiped his eyes, and Ryoma suddenly felt like he really, _really _had to sit down _right now_, in case he did something ridiculous like throw-up, or faint.

The feeling passed in the next moment though, so Ryoma pushed it from his mind, bounced the ball and served using his left hand. The minutes dragged by, each point blurring into the next one for Ryoma. It was almost like… he was playing in a dream or something… His mind was only half there, only half aware of his opponent – instead he was focused almost entirely on what was happening to him, and was struggling to make his body respond the way he wanted it too. It was almost like he was fighting two opponents...

Ryoma would run easily to one corner and return the ball, then his Level would drop, and he'd have to sprint to catch the next one, before forcing his Level up once again. His shots alternated between powerful and weak, his aim wavering from good to off-target. He scrambled, and tore across the court in Level Two, and then he'd raise it once more – jump and smash the ball in a graceful arch – before dropping back to earth and feeling even more tired than before. Tezuka returned his shots stoically, completely unfazed by anything Ryoma threw at him, even though the older boy was sweating too, he still managed to look calm and in control. It was infuriating and frustrating Ryoma.

_Obey me!_ he snarled in his mind, and finally his body responded. His Level soared upwards, surpassing Four and crashing into Level Five. Triumphant golden fire burned through Ryoma's eyes, and he let out a yell as he twisted around and smashed the ball. The ball hurtled by Tezuka so fast the Captain had no time to even move.

Ryoma landed and breathed easily, the strength of Level Five burned like liquid fire through his veins and allowed him to ignore the tightness of his chest. He met Tezuka's shocked gaze and stared back, challenging him once more. His Buchou's eyes narrowed behind his glasses and Tezuka seemed to nod to himself before crouching slightly for Ryoma's next serve.

The serve pounded across the court and Tezuka had to swiftly move and stretch to reach it – his racket caught the ball at an awkward angle, and his eyes widened at the extreme force behind Ryoma's shot, before the ball careered out of the court. The next serve Tezuka knew more what to expect and he managed to return it properly. If he had any chance of winning this game now, the older boy realised, he'd have to pull out all everything he had.

Ryoma was pumped on his side of the net and his body responded instantly without him barely having to think about it. The power of _Muga no Kyōchi _ran through him and he won the next two games, pulling his score up to level with Tezuka's at Four games all. In the next game a part of him realised there was something strange about the balls he hit, and the way Tezuka returned them. No matter where he aimed, his ball continually curved to Tezuka's position, which – Ryoma realised with surprise – was exactly the same every time. While Ryoma was running all over the court to hit the balls, Tezuka was just standing there letting the ball come to him.

Confusion darted through him, and his mind began to climb up from its subconscious state in _Muga no Kyōchi_, causing his Level to begin to drop from Level Five back to Level Four. Ryoma tried desperately to salvage his concentration and pull his Level higher again, but despaired as it continued to sink despite his efforts. The match continued and the struggle to keep his concentration returned with a vengeance to Ryoma. A detached part of him even felt like laughing at how he continued to fight in vain; it reminded of those matches he used to have with his father all those years ago, where he would lose no matter what he did. He watched as his arm seemed to move in slow motion, and the ball zoomed pass him before he could get it.

It was overwhelming. The heat, the sweat, he couldn't get enough air, his stomach churned, the sun hurt his eyes, his legs _ached_ so much. The image of Tezuka seemed to dance on the other side of the net, the ball appeared and disappeared, and his hand shook when he returned it. He had stopped trying to force his body to obey him, his Level seemed to jump higher and lower all by itself. He couldn't stop. If he did… a stab of pain hit his stomach and bile rose in his throat as if warning him. Ryoma swallowed convulsively and gasped for air as he lunged once more for the ball.

He missed.

…

Ryoma crouched on the ground, breathing hard as he tried to focus on his Captain while exhaustion crashed like a wave over him. Tezuka walked slowly up to net, and Ryoma watched half-fascinated, half-hypnotised as the sun caused the older boy's hair to light up like a halo. His face became shadowed; his body became a dark shape silhouetted by the sun.

"Game set," a voice Ryoma thought he knew from somewhere echoed across the court. "Echizen," the voice continued, "become Seigaku's pillar of support!"

_**Pillar of support**_

The dark-haired boy stopped breathing. His golden eyes widened with shock, and his heart gave one enormous thump as he stared up at the dim image before him. Shadows danced across the face towering above him, keeping him from seeing it clearly, but Ryoma knew who it was that stood before him.

The person stepped forward from the silhouette; revealing a cold crazed stare, black hair, and a half smirk crawling and stretching across his face. The face from Ryoma's nightmares. Panic and fear welled up like a tidal wave inside him, adrenaline squashed his exhaustion and his Level soared in response to his fear.

The figure in front of him stepped closer again and said something, but Ryoma could only stare back as his fear broke the barrier of Level Six and the dragon woke inside him, filling his mind with its force and presence. But still Ryoma's vision whirled.

_Attack,_ the spirit hissed.

The figure stepped closer again with his hand outstretched, reaching for Ryoma.

_Attack! _the dragon snarled, wanting to snap and break the hand in front of him. Ryoma shivered as the urge to lash out rocked through him; but he knew he wasn't ready to face _him_ yet, there was no way he could beat this guy. Tension thrummed through his whole body. His vision wavered and the form of Felix blurred slightly as he reached over the net for him – only the victorious leer twisting his features was clear to Ryoma.

_Then run,_ the dragon rumbled, and Ryoma shot to his feet and he fled in fevered haste.

**EST**

"I never thought you'd play him with your full strength. But I guess without it, you would've lost… right?" Oishi said as he and the Captain caught the train back from the university. Oishi had watched the entire game from the shade next to the court; it had been totally awe-inspiring watching the two Regulars verse each other. But it had also been a worrisome thing too… "You shouldn't be so stubborn. What are you going to do if it gets worse?" Oishi sighed and he gripped the strap hanging from the roof of the train harder. The memory of Tezuka's Drop Shot played in his mind again. If Tezuka's shoulder got worse because of this… but then there was Echizen to worry about too… Oishi shifted Echizen's abandoned tennis racket bag to a more comfortable position.

"Tezuka… Echizen will be alright, won't he? This type of harsh playing… even though you said it was best for his future… You saw the look he gave you afterwards, didn't you? He looked… more or less… scared of you. And the way he ran off, not even bothering to take his stuff with him, I don't think he's ever lost before… Tezuka…? Are you listening?"

Tezuka stared out the train window, consumed in thoughts of the golden-eyed boy.

**EST**

_His shoes pounded across the cement; colours whirled passed him in hazy smears. The wind tugged at his hair and clothes as the boy allowed the dragon to take control. He was moving too fast to take in his surroundings, the wind roared in his ears as he climbed and leapt up the sides of buildings, sped across the rooftops, before jumping down ledges, falling and rolling onto grass. He skid across gravel paths and scaled fences, sprinting as he ran further and faster. He leapt across the gap between two buildings, the wind snatched his cap and sent it spinning away, but still he didn't stop. Mindlessly, he raced across the city. He didn't know where he was going, but that wasn't important – just as long as he got away. _

_Only when the sun sunk below the horizon did he finally stop, plunging into a deep sleep. _

**EST**

"Eh?! The Buchou and Echizen are both absent again?!" Eiji, Momo, Fuji exclaimed the next day at practice. They turned to glare suspiciously at Oishi.

"H-Hey, don't look at me! I don't know anything," Oishi protested as sweat-drops formed on his head from the combined glares.

Ryuzaki nodded grimly, folding her arms in front of her chest. "Yes, Tezuka had to go to doctor today but–"

"The doctor!" Oishi interrupted, instantly assuming the worst case scenario.

"Yes, calm down," Ryuzaki said, "it's just for a check up so he can get the A-Okay for the tournament."

"Oh… Ah!" Eiji glomped his friend, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Nya, but what about Ochibi, Ryuzaki-sensei?" he asked.

Ryuzaki scowled, and closed her eyes. "Unfortunately, I don't know why Echizen's not here… but that's no reason for the rest of us to get slack. Get moving, all of you."

"There's something up with that kid," Momo grumbled to the other Regulars as they went to prepare for drills. "I mean, we're so close to the tournament and he's been absent for two days."

"Saa… I wonder if he's really sick?"

"Oh no, poor Ochibi-chan! Fujiko, we should bring him ice-cream or something yummy so he feels better soon."

Fuji hummed as he set down a basket of tennis balls. "Maybe we _should_ go by his house later to see if he's alright."

"I bet Echizen's just wagging school!" Horio said loudly by the fence to Kachiro and Mizuno. "That guy is so lazy!"

"Fsshh!" Kaidoh came up behind them, scowling fiercely. "You shouldn't talk bad about your classmates," he said in a low threatening voice.

"Wahh, gomen, gomen!" The three freshmen yelled, running away to hide behind Momo.

"Oi, Viper, are you frightening the freshmen again? You shouldn't do that, no you shouldn't!"

"Shut up, you moron!"

Kachiro poked his head out from behind Momo. "B-But s-senpai just said not to talk bad about classmates–"

"FSSSHH!"

"Ah, gomen!"

A ring-tone sounded in Ryuzaki's pocket, startling her from her thoughts. Digging into her pink tracksuit pants she pulled out her cell-phone. The number was unfamiliar.

"Moshi, moshi," she said, answering it, and then a moment later she exclaimed, "Nanjiro?!" The name caught the Regulars' attention, and they paused on the court.

"Nya, isn't that the name of Ochibi-chan's father?" Eiji whispered as they gazed at their coach and the growing frown on her face.

"Wait, slow down and say that again," Ryuzaki said, before listening for a moment. Then her frown deepened further. "Ryoma? No, he's not at practice. I believe he was absent from school today." She listened more, and the Regulars were surprised to see an expression of concern settling over her features. "Nanjiro? What do you mean? What's the matter?" Her eyebrows shot up suddenly. "Ryoma never came home last night?!"

The Regulars gasped and exchanged looks. Dropping the drill equipment, they moved back over to surround their coach. Fuji stood a little behind the Golden Pair, watching all the little changes in Ryuzaki's face as she listened intently to Ryoma's father.

"What do you mean, 'again'?" Ryuzaki asked sharply, her nostrils flaring. Then she rolled her eyes. "Alright, no need to bite my head off. Geez," she sighed, and ran her free hand over her face. "Tell you what; I'll have the other Regulars spread out to look for him, okay? Yes… of course we will. Ryoma is a part of our team." Her eyes softened as she listened once more. "That's alright. Don't worry yourself, Nanjiro, we'll find him."

She hung up, and turned a grim face to the worried Regulars around her. "Practice is over for today. We have a missing freshman to find."

"Hai, sensei!"

**EST**

Ryoma woke slowly as if he was rising from beneath water. The first thing he noticed was that his pillow was extremely cold and hard on his cheek. The next thing he noticed was the wind playing with his hair. His eyelids cracked open, but what he saw was unfamiliar and strange. Painfully, he pushed himself up until he was half sitting. His thoughts were foggy and sluggish as he stared at the bumpy metal beneath his fingers, and he became aware of an odd creaking noise. Sitting up further to see where he was, his eyes quickly widened and his mouth dropped open at the bizarre sight.

He was lying on the highest platform of a radio tower. The city was sprawled out before him as the wind carried clouds in front of the afternoon sun. It was the same wind that made the tower creak as it slightly swayed back and forth. Reaching for the metal rail that bordered the small worker's platform, Ryoma laboriously pulled himself to his feet and looked down. A dazzling drop of a hundred metres to hard cement ground greeted him, and he instinctively took a step back from the edge. _How on earth did I get up here?_ Ryoma wondered as the wind once again caused the tower to groan mightily. His head felt rather woozy and he rubbed his temple with one hand as he tried to recall his last memory.

The game with Tezuka flashed through his thoughts, and Ryoma remembered with a sinking feeling that he'd lost. But then, he hadn't been playing like usual – the idea that he was sick finally settled in his brain.

But still there had been something else. Ryoma's eyes narrowed as the wind danced with his green-highlighted hair, trying to recall what had happened before his memory went blank. Then it hit him. _Felix had been there_, Ryoma thought, his heart beating faster again, _but… how? _He had been playing Tezuka, and the next thing he knew Felix was on court and his Buchou was nowhere to be seen.

_Become Seigaku's pillar of support!_

The words whispered through his mind, and the truth dawned on Ryoma. He'd hallucinated. His Buchou's words must have triggered it through his fever; he had let the dragon take control, and ran wildly across the city. Now he had no idea where he was. _And Buchou probably thinks I'm Mada Mada…_ Well, there was nothing he could do about that now, he had to focus and find someway down from here.

His limbs were sore as he moved awkwardly around the high platform. They ached as if he'd just had an incredibly intense training session, and he wanted to go back to sleep. But if he didn't get home before dark his father would become extremely annoying for the next week. Ryoma arrived at a metal ladder on the far side of the platform, and he saw it went all the way to the ground. _Now I just have to climb down…_ Limbs already protesting the thought, Ryoma reached up to tug his cap down more firmly on his head. His hand grasped only air and Ryoma looked up in surprise. His favourite hat was nowhere to be seen.

The loss weighed down on him, and with a weary sigh, Ryoma turned and began to painstakingly descend down the thin ladder.

**EST**

Momo jumped the curb and pulled his bike to a stop, scanning the street court before him. Yet another dead end, Momo fumed. He'd already checked the usual places he and Echizen went to; like the tennis store, the burger shop, the ramen shop, and the bridge the two of them sometimes stopped at. Now he was checking all the tennis courts near the Echizen house, but he wasn't having any luck. It was like the kid had dropped of the planet!

"Oi… Echizen, where the hell are you?" Momo murmured, frowning. He pushed off again. The next one… maybe the next one…

**EST**

Ryoma plodded along a series of alleyways, stubbornly telling himself that he _wasn't_ lost, he meant to go this way. It had to be a shortcut to… somewhere… Ryoma reached another fork between several tall, dull buildings and paused, looking one way and then the other. He grimaced.

Okay. He had no idea where he was and he was dead tired. A slight familiar noise echoed down the left lane, and he blinked in surprise. _That sounded like…_ Ryoma perked up a bit and followed the sound; he wove around the back of one more large building, before space opened up before him. A tired smile made its way to his face. _This is better_. It was a couple of tennis courts. There were people using them, a team of some sort, but Ryoma was too exhausted to challenge them, and he didn't have his tennis racket anyway. Absently he thought he must have left his rackets when he played Tezuka, and he hoped the Captain had picked them up, otherwise his father would bite his head off for losing them.

The sun hung low in the sky, giving the court an autumn hue as Ryoma slipped his hands into his pockets and slid quietly around the side, watching the matches. Whoever they were, they were good, Ryoma had to admit. Giving in to the fatigue seeping through his bones, Ryoma sunk onto the viewing steps on the sidelines, and folded his arms on the small wall separating the stands from the courts. Gratefully he settled his head on his arms, deciding there was no harm in watching this team play for a while.

The team wore a uniform that Ryoma couldn't remember seeing before; it was yellow with a black strip around the torso. _Hmm… like a bumblebee… _Ryoma yawned. A black-haired boy, smaller than the others, was playing a guy who always kept his eyes closed – and apparently losing, judging boy the smaller boy's angry outbursts. On the other court a guy wearing glasses was playing a tall, bald, black guy. The other team members sat idle at the base of the viewing stands opposite Ryoma. After a few minutes a pink-haired boy, who'd been blowing gum and watching the second match keenly, turned and noticed Ryoma.

Ryoma watched impassively as the guy started in surprise, before twisting and saying something to a stoic, muscular boy in a cap – who turned and looked straight at Ryoma with a deadly serious expression. Ryoma blinked lazily back, he was too tired to do anything else. The boy in the cap continued to gaze seriously at Ryoma for a few moments more, before obviously deciding to ignore him.

A trickle of annoyance ran through Ryoma, and a glare pushed through his exhaustion and settled on his face. He wished he had his tennis racket.

**EST**

Fuji ambled along the sidewalk an hour after practice would've usually finished, now quite a long distance away from the Seigaku School. Fuji started searching from the Haruno University courts – which was apparently where the freshman had last been seen – Oishi had told Fuji this while avoiding his eyes.

He didn't have to be a tensai to work out what had happened yesterday, Fuji thought sourly, and yet it was _Oishi_ who'd gotten to see the match. The Fuku-buchou had known that Tezuka was playing that first year, and he hadn't said anything. And why did Echizen get a match with the Buchou so soon anyway? Fuji was still waiting for his match with Tezuka. Though he did wonder who had actually won the match yesterday. He would've killed someone to see it… like Oishi maybe…

"Er- hey! Excuse me!" someone yelled from behind him. Fuji turned around curiously. A boy who looked about sixteen with tanned skin, and brown hair swept up to the side with gel, was hurrying towards him. As he got closer Fuji noted the piercings in his lip and eyebrow – the boy looked foreign.

Fuji smiled at him. "Can I help you?" he asked pleasantly.

"Uh… Seigaku?" the boy said with a terrible accent, gesturing awkwardly to Fuji's tennis uniform. "You go. To Seigaku?"

"Yes," Fuji answered, watching with small amusement as the boy began fumbled through his bag. His smile dropped quickly when the boy pulled something out.

"Where did you get that?" Fuji asked sharply, eyeing Echizen's white cap in the boy's hand.

"Uh – can you… say slower…?" a pained expression came across the boy's features.

Fuji switched to English easily. "Where did you get that?"

"Ah! You speak English. Good." A relieved grin flashed at Fuji and disappeared just as quickly. "A boy ran by me wearing your uniform and dropped this. Do you know him?" the guy now clearly had an American accent.

"Hmm. Yes, I'll give it to him. Thank you." Fuji smiled and took the hat. The boy left, and the tensai continued wandering, musing over the cap. He was pretty sure Echizen wouldn't just leave his cap behind, but that boy had said the first year was running… why? Perhaps he was being chased? Fuji puzzled over it as he neared his next destination.

Fuji walked along the wire fence and peered down at the courts below. Initially he thought they were empty, but raised voices drew his attention to the base of the viewing steps below him, and the sight made him pause. Huh. He hadn't known Rikkai Dai practiced on street courts – he would've thought they believed the street beneath them… but then, he knew Hyotei sometimes did the same. Fuji remembered last year Atobe had said something along the lines of 'becoming accustomed to plebeian quality fields.'

Fuji smiled at the memory and looked back down at Rikkai Dai, wondering what they were doing. The team was crowded around the base of the steps, and a couple of the members were arguing or something. Fuji wandered closer, going through a small gate at the top of the steps. Now he could see what the team was crowding around.

Although he didn't quite believe it at first.

"Saa… Echizen, you never do things half-way, do you?" Fuji chuckled to himself. Before lightly heading down the steps.

"You little brat!" A pink-haired boy, Fuji recalled was named Marui, said furiously glaring down at Ryoma. "What are you, like, ten years old? I could crush you with both eyes closed!"

"Che. Just try it," Ryoma dared the third year, staring insolently back.

"Ne, ne, Marui, it's not nice to bully little kids," Niou, the trickster in tennis, admonished mockingly, coming up beside Marui.

"He started it!" Marui yelled. "Someone's has to teach this guy some respect. Sanada let me have a match with him!" The rest of the team looked to the Fuku-buchou, who actually looked like he was considering it.

Whoops, that's my cue. Fuji hurried faster towards the group. "Saa… Rikkai Dai, I see you found our freshman."

"Heh? Seigaku's Fuji Syusuke?" Yanagi muttered as everyone turned to Fuji.

"_Your_ freshman?" Sanada repeated, eyes narrowing beneath his cap.

Fuji hummed happily as he reached Echizen's side, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Ah. Yes, this is our newest Regular. First Year, Echizen Ryoma."

"Fuji-senpai," Echizen said, his eyes glowing hungrily, "lend me your racket."

"A First Year got to be a Regular? Is Seigaku losing its touch?" Niou teased.

"I could beat a brat like you easy!" Marui laughed, blowing a large green bubble.

"Fuji-senpai, give me your racket. I want to beat this bubble-head."

"Hey!"

Fuji smiled down at the freshman. "Echizen. This is the Rikkai Dai team, the National Champions of last year. I don't think Tezuka would approve."

"Don't care," Echizen snubbed him. Fuji subtly tightened his hand intensely on the boy's shoulder.

"I don't approve either, Marui." Sanada said sternly. "Seigaku, we look forward to going against you in the tournament." Sanada pulled his team away and set them to start packing up their equipment.

"That hurts," Echizen said in a monotone once they were gone.

Fuji released his grip. "Ah, gomen." He examined the younger boy carefully, and sighed. "Echizen… where were you? Everyone is worried about you."

"Heeh, what are you talking about Fuji-senpai?" Echizen looked up at him.

"Your father said you didn't come home last night,"

Echizen frowned. "Of course I did." His baka oyaji had been trying and failing at baking a cake. That was hard to forget.

"But you weren't at practice today, or yesterday…?" Fuji was puzzled, had Echizen's father been lying?

"Nani? Fuji-senpai I think you're confu–"

Fuji's voice went chilly. "Didn't you have a match with Tezuka yesterday?"

Echizen suddenly stilled and his expression cleared. "Uh, Fuji-senpai… what day is it today?"

"Thursday," he answered.

Echizen seemed to deflate. "Oh god," he said flatly in English. "Dad's going to kill me."

Fuji worked it out. "Ah. You thought it was still Wednesday…? But how?"

Echizen sighed, "I… just wasn't myself." Echizen made to leave it at that, but Fuji opened his eyes, silently warning him that excuse wouldn't be enough. Echizen got the hint and scowled up at him, before turning away and closing his eyes as he continued bluntly, "I was sick. I got lost. I went to sleep at some stage, and must have slept the day away. I thought it was the same afternoon when I woke up."

"Saa… you're sick?" Fuji leant forward and felt Ryoma's forehead; it did feel slightly warmer than it should be. "You are sick, and you wanted to challenge Rikkai Dai?" Fuji laughed quietly at the thought.

Echizen glared at him. "I could have beaten him," he said stubbornly.

"Hmm, if you say so." Then a thought occurred to Fuji which made him open his eyes in surprise. "You were sick this badly, but you still went and played Tezuka?"

Echizen dropped his gaze and shifted uncomfortably. "…Aa."

Fuji stared at the boy for a moment longer, before smiling a little sadly. "Saa… you're just like him."

"Fuji-senpai, please don't tell Buchou I was sick."

"Hn? I'll think about it." Fuji lifted his other hand and put Echizen's cap on his head.

Echizen's eyes widened delightfully. "My hat! Sankyuu." He pulled it down more firmly.

Fuji tilted his head as he watched the younger boy fiddle with it, noticing something else and frowning. "You're not wearing your uniform…" he murmured.

Echizen gave him a weird look. "So?"

"Hmm. Nevermind. Let's go, I should call the others and let them know I've found you." As Fuji got at his mobile and dialled Ryuzaki's number his thoughts mulled over the stranger who had returned Echizen's cap. For some reason, the stranger had lied to him… and if Echizen hadn't been wearing a uniform like Fuji's, then how had that guy known they were on the same team?

**A/N**

**Woo! This chapter just didn't want to be written for some reason, but I conquered it eventually. XD **

**Next chapter is: Devils, Angels, and Monkey Kings **

**Arigato guzaimasu!**

– _**Mel XX**_


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